


So Much of this is Impractical

by Agent_Pumpkin01



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 23,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Pumpkin01/pseuds/Agent_Pumpkin01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of one shots and xReaders revolving around four idiots we all know and love a little too much for our own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Head Massages (Murr/Reader)

**“Murr--”**

You don’t have time to protest as he all but drags you into a sitting position in front of him, the male sitting on the couch while you rest between his legs. Eyes roll on their own accord but soon slip closed when you feel his hands in your hair.

**“Murr...?”** It’s an attempted question, something that is lost in translation as your ability to receive information around you nullifies into something comparable to a hazy reverie. The pleasure he’s granting you just by stroking through your hair... it’s astounding, simply breathtaking, enough to make you want to pant with gratification. How he’d become so good is something you almost don’t dare explore for it makes you think about other things his hands can do and you have enough of those distractions without tempting them. Instead, you bite your lip and remain dutifully silent. The Joker says nothing - but you can hear the smirk on his features all the same as he slows his motions and gives a light tug to your thick lockes, nails dragging firmly across your scalp and earning a rather prominent shudder from you. A moment of deliberation, a second of hesitation-- and then his voice finally punctures the air.

**“Saw you were looking stressed today.”** Discomfort ignites in you for you don’t feel inclined to share anything. Sure, you have heavy thoughts sometimes - thoughts that bog you so far down in the dumps that, in all honesty, it’s hard to crawl out of them - but it doesn’t mean that you feel stressed. Do you? Maybe a little...

**“Don’t be dumb,”** you reply, a tiny laugh escaping your lips before melting into a shaky exhalation as his thumbs slip from your head and massage the back of your neck. Given how well-groomed he is, you can only assume that Murr knows a thing or two about pampering. Trying to solidify your resolve, a breath is taken to correct the tremor in your voice. **“...I’m fine.”**

**“Less than convincing,”** Murr comments, though pity seeps through the otherwise emotionless gripe and forces a tiny smile to appear on your features.  **“You don’t have to worry so much, you know? Relax - let loose a little and good ol’ Murr will work his magic.”**

A laugh, more full and soulful, leaves your mouth. **“Could you be any more off-putting?”**

**“I could take my socks off and put my toes on your inner thighs.”**

**“Point taken.”**

For a short while, all that fills the room is the sound of your soft breaths and his fingers raking through your [h/c] hair; to say you’re slipping further and further into relaxation is the under-statement of the century for you can feel your body sinking against his leg as contentment overrides your system like one shot of alcohol too many. Euphoria is seldom achieved in humans, real euphoria, but this is so damn close that you pull away for fear of unravelling in front of the man, red colouring your cheeks to the point in which you don’t dare look at him.

**“Thanks. For that,”** you murmur, eyes averting to the ground. From in front of you, James chuckles, eyes watching you as you lean back and blink to regain orientation before he leans forwards in his seat on the couch and rests the palm of his hand against your face. His skin is warm, smooth against your cheek as you stare, uselessly stunned, into his eyes. For a moment, nothing happens - and then the Joker leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, fingers stroking at your jaw before he releases you again. Pity outlines his features though it isn’t without an underlying tone of ‘I told you so’.

**“No need to thank me - I want to help you, [Y/N]. Let me help more often.”** The smile that appears on his face has you smiling back despite your previous insecurities, so warm and genuine that you feel you have no choice but to melt in its presence. You’re far from useless but there isn’t much you wouldn’t do when faced with such a beautiful expression, all affection and love. Your hand raises to your cheek, palm grazing the area in which he’d previously held.

**“...maybe.”**


	2. Healthy Competition (Q/Reader)

Sitting in between Brian’s legs with his cat on your lap whilst he plays his video game is something you’ve become accustomed to the longer you spend time together. He seems content to just have you there, fingers mashing buttons and, in between levels or bathroom breaks, he’ll press his lips to your head or your cheek or your neck and then begin playing again. It’s enough for you - it always has been. After all, you like video games too.

It has been a little over two and a half hours of gaming when Q slowly puts the controller down and stares blankly ahead of him. The halt in button-mashing grabs your attention, makes you avert your gaze from the sleeping Benjamin in your lap and look up at him with those large [E/C] eyes of yours.

 **“...Q?”** You dare to ask, shifting in his lap. He barely registers your speech, just looks down with solitary quietness that makes you worry. Because, for somebody who has overcome so much, he’s an upbeat guy; never wears a frown for too long. **“...are you okay?”**

**“Yeah, yeah-- I’m good. Just...”**

The sentence lingers in the air before dissipating into nothingness. Eyes squeeze shut for a moment in apology before you move the napping cat from your legs - causing him to wake up and mewl with discomfort - and place him on the ground. Your body is turning to look at the man before you can even consider what you’re doing.

**“Just what?”**

For a moment, Brian remains quiet. **“...I just... think I should be doing something, you know? Playing video games day in and day out... it’s fun but where’s the time going...?”**

Thoughts mesh together in your head, leave you curious as you consider the Joker’s train of thought. Doesn’t he realise that he already does so much more with his life than most people ever will? He makes people laugh, makes them happy-- and hell, he makes you happy. Without the once-irritating bashing of buttons the apartment you share feels empty, resembles a graveyard with souls long-gone. It isn’t right.

 **“Brian,”** you say, a hand moving to press against his cheek. The man blinks at the touch, as if it still surprises him, before he relaxes into it and looks down at you with large, overtly sad, brown eyes. A weak smile appears on his face though effort strains the corners of it, the creases under his eyes signifying that it isn’t a real one. **“If you’re having fun then it’s time well-spent.”**

The male tries his damnedest to look convinced.

**“Q, it’s fine - you already do so much with your life. Making other people happy and being with your lifelong friends-- a moment is never wasted.”**

The Joker bites his lower lip, thinks about your words. Does he really make that much of a difference? Before he can consider anything more, his lips are captured in a sweet kiss as you re-adjust on his lap and delve your fingers through his thick, dark hair. The attention you grant him, all tongue and soft strokes with the pads of your fingers as his beard lightly scratches your chin , is enough to make the man weak, mind forgetting time and hands mapping out your body once more. That’s something he’ll never forget.

The hands on the side of his face travel, flit from his skin to his clothed shoulders and rubbing at them provocatively, as if trying to ease fabric away with the very desire to do so. His controller is shunted from beside him, knocked to the floor as you begin to kiss more deeply, hands exploring one another with intent. Q suddenly diverts from your lips, nips your neck and feels the essence of your life beneath his tongue as he sucks on your pulse point, leaving you breathless and pressing against his body with a rekindled fire in the pit of your stomach as large hands rake through your hair and tug it enough to make a tiny sound leave your throat. You want more--

\--but you’ve always been a _tease_.

 **“Okay,”** you say shakily, getting up from his lap and moving away - and for a moment, Brian is worried, considers the fact that he hasn’t satisfied you all too possible, but you’re back to him in seconds and holding the second controller, a confident grin forming on your face as your tussled hair provokes a smile from the other. **“I want to play with you.”**

The air is somewhat tense then, a layer of competition thickening it like paint and the steady smirk that appears on Q’s face is enough to make you smirk back. It’s good to see his fire, always beautiful to watch the life in his eyes light up; and it’s done by such simple means because, really, Brian is a simple man and all he wants is to be happy. You grant him that, make him feel more grounded when everything takes a dreary dip into existentialism.

Q retrieves his controller, devious grin replacing his smirk as he forgets all about his worries.

_**“Game on.”** _


	3. Germaphobia (Sal/Reader)

**SMUT WARNING**

 

Your hand comes to rest against his back as he rubs his hands furiously beneath the hot water. You have to admit, the punishment set up for him had been genius: making him bury himself in trash to find his phone only to reveal that he’d been sent out to sea in the time he’d been scouring desperately.

 **“Assholes,”** Sal hisses venomously under his breath and you barely flinch as he holds his hand out expectantly for you know what he wants. A hand delves into the pocket of the jacket you’re wearing and pulls out a bottle of hand-sanitiser, squirting a generous helping onto his hand and watching as he resumes his cleaning. Once he’s done with that, he grunts and puts his hands back under the water.

You notice the skin of his hands beginning to turn red, steaming red, as if it’s about to peel off due to the heat it’s being exposed to.

**“Sal.”**

The Joker doesn’t regard you, just focuses on his breathing. He closes his eyes with impatience when he feels your hand reach up and squeeze lightly at the back of his neck; he hates that because it brings him back to earth and sometimes he prefers being locked up in his clean little bubble when things get too messy; mostly he hates it because you always know when it’s necessary.

**“Sal, stop.”**

Silence pervades the air, only broken by the hammering of the hot water against the sink. Carefully, your hand reaches for one of his and guides it away (you wince at how warm it is), fingers slipping deftly over plastic and turning the tap until the beating drum against the inside of the sink stops completely. Reaching behind you, a hand locks around fluffy fabric and passes it to the stressed out male, his hands enclosing around it in return. The towel is short-lived but effective in drying his skin.

**“You’re all right.”**

**“I’m good.”**

His short sentences leave something to be desired and that stony stare definitely isn’t welcoming. Briefly, you consider what had happened to make this way. Surely somebody couldn’t be born with such disgust for germs without some form of fear being instilled in them from a young age... or a raging case of OCD? Either way, it hurts you to have to see him in such distress.

Saying nothing, you lead him out of the kitchen and guide him to the couch by his hands, still worried at how hot-to-the-touch they are as you both sit, him looking more blank than you care to think about. He doesn’t speak to you, just swallows hard and collects his bearings; and you respect that, slowly releasing his hands and letting him sit alone. Or at least you would have had he not re-taken them and given them a squeeze. A smile slowly stretches across your face.

**“Thanks. For staying with me back there. I’m used to having the guys mess with me like this but... it doesn’t make it any easier.”**

Without thinking about it, you raise one of his hands to your lips and press a gentle kiss to it, looking through your lashes to meet his eyes. He’s staring at you, swallowing thickly before inhaling purposefully through his mouth, lips parting as if he’s about to say something... before he decides against it, instead leaning closer to you and giving you a hesitant kiss. You return it, of course you do, all gentle breaths and soft pecks as you shuffle closer to his side of the couch and let his hands brush over your face and hold it. The heat isn’t quite as unbearable now, has faded into a comfortable warmth as the burn cools.

A soft ‘mm...’ leaves your lips when he pulls away to breathe, his mouth still ghosting yours as you sit there with your eyes closed, enraptured by the taste of him. Sal has never been easy to cope with, with his many phobias and his otherwise ‘uptight’ (when it comes to being comfortable within his own space) persona; it is something that leaves you frustrated sometimes... but it’s what makes him him and you love it all in the end.

 **“...I’d like to do that again.”** Sal breathes quietly, lips moving against yours while the words burn you from the inside out, setting your core alight and leaving you all but whimpering as he pulls you in again and kisses you more confidently than before, mouths meshing together firmly with the beginnings of tongue poking through. You move further towards him, picking yourself up onto your knees and keening as you feel the Joker twist his body to meet you. **“...ah, yeah... come here, [Y/N].”**

You rest against his body, feeling pudgy firmness meld against you as his hands slip beneath your shirt and begin to caress the skin of your back as your kisses intensify. Laying atop him, you can feel Sal’s hard breathing, can feel the pound of his pulse beneath your tongue as you divert from his lips and attack his neck with kisses and bites to which he makes small noises of appreciation and strokes down your back and over the curve of your rear. He’s beginning to forget the gross aspects of his punishment, instead revelling in the soft feel of you.

Hands flutter down his front, unbuttoning his shirt, and the Joker doesn’t stop you; in fact, with the look he’s giving you, all smouldering and keen, he’s urging you on. When his front is exposed, you trail your hands over his skin and watch his eyes slip closed, breathing a little more shallow as he considers what you’re going to do to him. Such thoughts have also evoked a noticeable bulge in the front of his pants, one that makes you snicker and grin with triumph as you run your palm over it and listen to his sharp intake of breath.

His hands remove your shirt with little more than a puff of effort, hand around the back of your neck guiding you down for a kiss before his hands begin to fondle your breasts. You mewl with pleasure as Sal tends to you, bra slipped off in one skilful flick of his fingers before his mouth comes to close around a nipple, sucking generously. Faltering, the only thing you can think to do is support yourself with your hands on his shoulders - until you feel the Joker move, sitting up so that he is hosting your weight. In a crazy turn of events, you find yourself on your back and staring up at him, his face reduced to a smirk you would find sleazy on anybody but him, his mouth resuming its work and making your body arch up against his. Hips strive to mesh with his and you feel the intimacy of your groins grinding together as hands busy themselves on him, one running down his back and eventually reaching his belt while the other buries itself in his once-neat hair and tugs as you moan quietly.

 **“Fuck, [Y/N]...”** Sal mouths hotly, kisses being trailed down your stomach as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and guides them down your legs, underwear being taken along with them. Fully exposed, you shift to try and hide yourself beneath him; the man takes your arm away, kisses your wrist as he nods at you. “No need to hide from me. You look perfect.”

In the interval in which Sal has stopped to stare at you, you have worked his belt from around his waist and are currently in the process of feeling him. A shuddering breath leaves the Joker’s mouth as you palm at his front before pulling his underwear down his legs (which he shakes the rest of the way off on his own), erection springing free. You lick your lips, unable to stop yourself, before wrapping a hand around his length and pumping it, watching as his arms - the only leverage he has above you - quiver and his brow furrows with concentration as he chases the pleasure you’re granting him.

**“Sal... please... “**

There isn’t much else you can bring yourself to say, too desperate to feel him inside of you to really understand the effects of communication any more. Your vision is hazy, so fuzzy, everything zoned out except for him and his face and his nod as he shifts his hips and enters you slowly, causing you to cling on tightly to him and bury your face in his shoulder.

Sal waits. He waits for you to adjust, waits for you to give him some sign that you’re doing fine - and he receives it in the form of a tiny nod and equally tiny syllables that make up ‘y-you can move now...’.

The male certainly doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling out of you only to jut his hips forth and enter you to the hilt once more. All but spasming beneath him, you reach blindly for his face and guide him towards you, kissing him hard once the pair of you meet. A sound of guttural pleasure passes from his lungs to yours, the sound filling your mouth and your brain as you feel a thin sheen of sweat beginning to build between your bodies.

It isn’t surprising that he has you calling out for him; sometimes his name is cried out to the high heavens while other times you are so far gone that you can’t even figure out what to do with yourself, the only thing passing your lips being pleased moans as you move your hips to meet this thrusts. By far, the sound that has your attention is the low groans coming from Sal as he gradually begins to come closer to the edge. You’re both getting there, both completely entranced and he gives you an adorable smile as he watches you reaching your limit the more he pounds into you, rhythm increasing until you can’t take it any more--

**“S--Sal! I’m gonna--!”**

He shushes you with his lips and it doesn’t even occur to him that you’re orgasming on his couch for the cry of his name and the tight grip of your fingers keeps him from doing so. He keeps moving even after you’ve finished, helping you ride out your high before he succumbs to the feeling of your previous convulsions and releases himself into you.

Sal manages to move to the side before he collapses onto the couch, heavy breathing from the pair of you the only sound filling the air as he relocates your body in the plush and holds you close to him. With eyes as heavy as grass weighed down by morning dew, you lay there and press your body against his, taking comfort in the snug formation as you toy with his fingers. When breathing comes somewhat normal to you once more, you dare to break the silence.

**“...wow.”**

A husky chuckle from beside you makes you grin a lop-sided grin. **“Wow is right, girl. You should probably help me out with my ‘germaphobia’ more often...”**


	4. Snackages (Joe/Reader)

**“Stop with the puppy-eyes, man.”**

It’s been this way for several minutes now, with you on your knees in front of the Joker, hands resting on his while you look up at him pleadingly. There are many things you want from Joe Gatto... but this time it’s just his doughnut.

**“Aww, c’mon, Joey!”** You plead, tilting your head and resting it on your hands that are settled on his knees. He gives you an unimpressed look, brows raising while his mouth, stuffed to the brim with his snack, forms a thin line. You just pout and flutter your lashes in a way you know he thinks is adorable, even though you’re just mocking him. **“You have another three doughnuts. I can see them.”**

**“I have another three bellies to feed.”**

Joe gestures to his stomach, rubbing it with his palm and you can’t help but snigger... if only you could be as accepting of your body as he is with his. When all is said and done though, you’re not going to allow him to make jibes at himself at the expense of your humour so you soften and reach a hand to pat at his tummy also, an encouraging smile on your face.

**“Just a half?”**

He seems to debate for a while, eyes shifting to look down and to the left; you try desperately to catch them, to guiltily lose yourself in that brilliant blue gaze-- but it seems he’s caught on to your puppy-dog tactics and is no longer accommodating them for he avoids eye contact with you... before sighing and offering you the half-eaten doughnut in his hand.

Triumph overtakes your thoughts as you snag the treat, all but cramming it into your mouth so that he can’t change his mind. A tense silence passes, one in which he does nothing but stare at you in disbelief... before he laughs hard, the sudden sound filling your ears. He’s loud - but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

**“Holy shit! I gave it--!”** Joe exclaims through belly laughter. **“Oh, man...”**

You just grin sheepishly, tilting your head as you chew the doughnut with a lot of effort. It’s difficult to chew with your mouth so full, even more difficult to breathe, but since it’s made him laugh and you’ve gotten a treat out of it, it’s totally fine. You accept it.

Once you manage to swallow the doughnut down, you flash him a smug smirk. **“Tastes good.”**

**“You missed a spot.”** Joe doesn’t elaborate, just reaches a finger forwards and swipes icing from your nose. Blinking, a giggle passes the confines of your lips... before you lean forwards with speed unlike your own, taking the Joker’s finger into your mouth and sucking the icing. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a stare that’s a little too focused to be meager speculation, eyes locking onto the motions you’re making with your mouth before you pull away with a ‘pop!’ of his fingers.

**“Like I said, _tastes good._ ”**

There’s seldom a time that the Joe Gatto is rendered speechless - but this is certainly one of them. For approximately five seconds, not a single thing about him twitches. However, when he appears to recollect himself, build his resolve with the futility of making a house of cards in a blizzard, he smirks.

**“Might be offerin’ more some time,"**  he comments off-handedly, staring down at you. You resume your original position, dart your tongue across your lips and rest your head on his knee, shrugging comically.

**“I _might_ just take you up on that.”**


	5. Distractions (Q/Reader)

**SMUT WARNING!**

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time being with Brian Quinn, it’s that you love being his distraction. He’s doting, never leaves you hanging, but there are times when your craving for attention won’t wait for even the simplest of things. He never seems to get annoyed with you; just gives you that knowing smile and continues about his task, sometimes reaching out to give you a mock-pet on the head as if you’re one of his cats - and you don’t mind.

Lazily, your eyes scan over him as he talks on the phone. You’ve been waiting for him to come upstairs for at least twenty minutes now and you’re beginning to get restless. Still, you can’t quite bring yourself to be annoyed, watching how his mouth moves as he speaks, watching his hands twitch as he gestures for nobody to see. Watching his chest move as he breathes...

You can wait no more. Getting to your feet, you move to sit next to him on the couch, tuning out his conversation and placing a hand to his shoulder. Q jumps slightly, having not expected to be touched. Eyes lower flirtatiously as your hand travels down his arm, tracing his bicep with a curious finger. The long-haired male averts his gaze to you, brow dipping slightly before he weakens under your wandering finger as it trails from bicep to his thigh.

**“Yeah, Joe-- I’ll be there. The Shack, right?”**

Dark brown eyes flit from the hand on his thigh to your face. He should be concentrating on discussing the meet-up at the doughnut store with his friend the following day... but you’re leaning in, teeth catching his earlobe and nibbling whilst your palm flattens against him and it takes so much effort not to stammer--

_**“Bud? You still there?”** _

It’s Joe’s voice you hear over the phone and, while Q gives you a pleading look as you palm him through his jeans, all you do is grin wickedly and give him a playful wink. Go ahead, Joker, finish your phone-call.

**“Uh-- y-yeah, yeah. I just-- yeah.”**

Q’s eyes slip closed as you begin to fumble with the button of his jeans, slipping down to your knees and sinking between his legs. If there’s anything you want, it’s to watch him squirm in place of moaning - and the look in your eyes had said it all: hang up and I stop.

Hands deftly tug at his pants, pulling them down his legs (he assists you by raising his body to let them down to his ankles). You feel his hardness through his boxers, run your finger down the stiff length and lick your lips as you consider everything you can do to him. You free him of his underwear.. Teasingly, you bring your lips to his tip, and ghost your mouth over it, tongue flicking over the slit at the top; the taste of precum gives you a thrill that can’t be beaten.

Brian continues to talk on the phone, a hand making its way to your head, fingers tangling in your soft [H/C] hair and urging you to do more. Complying, your mouth coats his hard length all the way to the base, the urge to gag imminent yet you remain silent in the hopes of pleasing him further. On your ascent for breath, you drag your tongue up his shaft and raise a hand to pump him as you submerge yourself in the tip once more. Your head goes through simple up-and-down motions, sucking him hard while he bites his lip to stay quiet.

He looks at you, eyes burning, hand gripping tightly... and then he’s up on his feet, sending you sprawling backwards; you climb right back up, wrap your arms around his thighs and reattach yourself to his throbbing member, desperate to please him once more. The hand in your hair is reassigned, tugging enough to make a moan leave your throat before he begins thrusting into your mouth at a breakneck pace. The sound of him almost forcing his way in - yet no complaints from you - makes you wetter than you already are, a free hand dipping between your legs and beginning to stroke your entrance. Eyes slip closed and you can hear the triumph in Brian’s voice as he continues to talk to the other Joker.

**“Yeah - all right. Twenty dollars’ll cover it, man?”**

An attempt to smile on your behalf leaves you gasping for breath for Q isn’t stopping any time soon. Crudely put, he’s fucking your mouth as if it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it, all frenzy and primitive possession as his eyes glaze over with lascivious intent. God, you want him - this has to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made in terms of getting him going. The hard length in your mouth... you want it inside of you as soon as possible.

The Joker’s movement begin to falter, more harsh and jerky and you know what’s about to happen, eyes squeezing shut as you prepare yourself to take it all. It’s all you want; the taste of him, the very essence of his being... you want every single bit and you want it now. With the ghost of a pant in his voice, the man looks down at you and grins sharply.

**“No problem, Joey. I’m _coming_.”**

You’ve never heard such a glorious double-meaning in your life, for no sooner had he said the sentence has he exploded in your mouth, thick hot load covering it thoroughly, a tiny grunt escaping him (which he passes off as a clear of the throat when Joe asks about it). You swallow hard, wanting to get it all down you, and find that Q doesn’t release you until you prove to him that it’s all ‘disposed of’. When he’s satisfied, he releases you and nods, sitting down on the couch while you get up and sit next to him, resting your head against his shoulder while you squeeze your thighs together.

This time his fingers are wandering, dancing across the skin of your arm before he laces his fingers with yours and says goodbye to his friend. Silence hits you like a brick - and then the jingle of laughter from your lover loosens you up all over again, as if it’s the first time you’ve heard such a beautiful sound, before he leans over and kisses you square on the mouth.

 **“Man, you’re really something.”** Brian chuckles, teeth showing as he begins to grin at you. Fingers slip between your thighs, his brow raising. **“...I feel I owe you a favour or two, babe.”**


	6. They're So Cute When They're Asleep (Sal/Reader)

He’s staring down at the sleeping bundle, arms resting on the wood of the cot while the baby snoozes silently. Soft gurgling makes its breaths even more endearing to the Joker; but what makes it the cutest thing in the world is that he’s had it with you.

The delivery had been hell, you almost breaking two of his fingers due to clutching his hand so hard throughout all of the pain - and he would have accepted a whole assortment of broken limbs just to stay in that damn room with you, breathing alongside you and wiping your sweat away with a damp cloth and kissing your forehead soothingly when you were certain you were about to pass out in agony-- he wouldn’t have traded any of it for the world for the experience makes him feel closer than ever to you.

**“Sal?”**

He hears you and he turns to face you almost immediately, automatically opening his arms as you move towards him and settle into his warm embrace. After so long worrying that he’d eventually grow tired of you, you’d come to really relish in those breathtaking hugs of his for they never fail to make you feel safe and loved. Your head rubs against his chest, nuzzling much like a cat before you pull away slightly and look up at him, fingers coming to lazily stroke against his beard while he regards you with a soft smile.

**“I couldn’t help myself,”** he tells you, voice low so as not to wake the sleeping newborn. A soft giggle passes your lips as the pads of your fingers travel down his neck, tired gaze locked on his and the smile never leaves your lips as you lean in and press a tender kiss to his mouth. It’s nothing heated, a pure lust for love as he caresses your face gently and guides you seamlessly against his body.

Sal’s hair tickles your face as he gives you a grin and diverts to your neck, peppering kisses along your the expanse of skin and making his way to your jaw, hot open-mouthed kisses making your eyes slip closed-- but you still giggle because you’ve always been ticklish.

**“Shh...”** Sal whispers with a small laugh. **“Don’t wake [B/N], [Y/N].”**

**“Sal,”** you murmur, managing to pick up your head long enough to stare at him with a loving smile on your face, lips resting on the tip of his nose to which he smiles goofily at and bites his lower lips to keep from laughing at how adorable you are. “You know, letting the baby sleep alone doesn’t mean you’re going to miss anything. You’re still [B/N]’s Dad when they wake up.”

The Joker just chuckles, raising his shoulders. **“I know, I know... I just don’t want to miss a thing.”**

It’s at moments like these where you have to take a mental step back and really marvel at the type of man Sal is, because it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience when you come to understand just how caring he is. It’s monumental, something you’ve always admired about him, since you two began; it’s been a long road and never has he taken anything between you for granted.

You kiss him once more, overcome with emotion as your tongue seeks his in a passionate haze you have never been able to describe. Your face is taken in his large hands as Sal kisses you back just as deeply and feel the familiar warmth of his body coming to mesh pleasantly against your own as he takes a step closer. You sigh into him, body folding as if it was always meant to be there with his.

Just as the pair of you begin to descend into something more, the baby starts crying. Sal pulls away with a soft groan, head tilting back with filtered annoyance before he gives you a bashful grin and gestures with his head for you to go back to bed; countless sleepless nights have left you less than awake as you nod and smile gratefully at him.

You giggle as Sal pulls the sobbing baby into his arms.

**“I think I like [B/N] better when they’re asleep.”**


	7. First Kisses (All/Reader)

**The first time you and Brian** kiss would be during a movie night. He’d be cuddled close to you on the couch, your head in his lap while his fingers work absentmindedly through your hair, a film neither of you are really paying attention to blaring listlessly while the television illuminates the room. You’d stare up at him, watching him stare at the screen with a look of forced fixation… before he glances downwards to find you gazing up at him with those eyes he’s come to love so much. There would be a silence, full and thick, and you swear you could get lost in those dark eyes of his… before he leans down and presses his mouth softly to yours. He’d pull back a couple of seconds later, the television lighting your face enough for him to see that your gaze is half-lidded and heavy, blush adorning your cheeks and he can hardly resist doing it again.

 **The first time you and Sal** kiss would be after a particularly disgusting punishment of his. He’d be scrubbing at his hands, trying to rid himself of filth and you’d be waiting patiently, knowing how stressed he gets over being any kind of dirty. Once he’s done, he’ll turn to find you still there and offering him a towel to dry off - and he’ll be touched, well and truly, because he hadn’t expected anybody to wait that long. Sal would move towards you to take the towel and dry his hands… but his gaze doesn’t leave you and he notices that, after a short while of returning his stare, you avert your eyes to stare at the ground instead, appearing embarrassed under his scrutiny. He’d take it upon himself to lift your chin to meet your eyes once more, finding himself far too in love with the way your cheeks fuel red when he looks at you, before he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. When you try to ask him why Sal simply covers your mouth with his once more and kisses you harder.

 **The first time you and Joe** kiss would be during a date that has sidetracked into a walk through the town, you stopping to marvel at the sunset on the way back from the doughnut shop. He’d come to stand beside you and you automatically lean your head against his shoulder, feeling his hand wrap around your coat-clad arm a moment later. He’d always wanted to hold you close like this, since you’d first met, and it’s with an amount of pride that he does so, even daring to tug you closer when a content sigh leaves your mouth. Joe would ask you why you’d stopped and you would reply that you wanted to look at the sunset because it was beautiful; he’d make a cheesy comment about it ‘not being as beautiful as you’ and you’d laugh - because that’s what Joe Gatto does, he makes you laugh. Your head would shift on his shoulder so that you’re gazing up at him and he’d glance down curiously, brow raised, before a bashful smile takes over his face. With only a tiny pause, he’d lean in and give you a small kiss on the lips, trying to ‘play it cool’ as he shrugs at you as if it’s no big deal - you’d disagree and pull him in again.

 **The first time you and Murr** kiss would be on the morning of a cold winter’s day. You always wake up alongside him, wanting to see him off as he leaves to meet his friends and perform the pranks they’re famous for. As he’s readying himself, slipping his coat, hat and gloves on, you find his scarf and tap his shoulder to get his attention. When Murr turns to face you, he’s relieved to see that you’ve found the last article of clothing that he’d been missing and you lean in close to wrap it around his neck for him, fabric threading through your fingers and skimming the tempting skin of his neck a few times before it’s covered. Even when it’s been put on, you don’t let go - he’s caught you in a deep gaze and you can’t pull yourself to look away, hands still clinging to the scarf before he gives you a slow smile and murmurs ‘thanks…’ before hesitantly inching his head towards you and pressing a grateful kiss to your lips. You’d freeze up, as if the cold outside has found its way into your nerves and frozen them stiff… but you feel your eyes closing with contentment as Murr’s soft treatment warms you right back up again. He’d pull away reluctantly, chuckling as he has to ease your hands off of his scarf so he can leave. As he’s one foot out of the door, he turns back to look at you and gives you an adorable smile, the one where his eyes crinkle with warmth and his cheeks raise high, before he assures you he’ll ‘see you later’.


	8. We 'Dance' (Murr/Reader)

To put it bluntly, your dance teacher is _hot_.

However, you sense something is up when he begins to perform strange tasks, such as leaping in the air while his legs snap together, twirling around the length of the room (and at one point doing it so much that he all but crashes into the wall) and repeating the word ‘posture!’ so many times it no longer sounds like a word.

But you _don’t care_.

**“All right - so now we’re gonna put all I’ve taught you into play. Grab a partner, start dancing!”**

On instinct, your head swivels to take in the other people in the class - and you promptly realise that you are the odd one out for there are five of you and the others have settled into pairs. Hopelessly, you turn back to the front to confront your dance teacher only to see a hand extended towards you.

**“Looks like you and I are partners, m’lady.”**

A brow dips at his choice of words but his forming grin ultimately wins you over. Your small palm fits in his larger one as he leads you into a clear space. Unbeknownst to you, the other Jokers laugh and the sound of two of them dropping their gear can be heard; Joe off-handedly comments they’re going to ‘leave him to it considering he’s sure to make a fool of himself in front of such a pretty girl’ leaving their friend to simmer in self-doubt and light panic. However, all he does is smile, readjusting his gaze and realising for the first time since you’ve looked at one another that he’s transfixed by the vibrant colour staring back him.

 **“Am I doing it right...?”** You dare ask, gaze faltering as you find yourself getting lost in the deep brown of his eyes. All he does is nod. Suddenly you stiffen as he leans in closer, mouth settling beside your ear as he takes a breath and then softly asks:

**“Can I get your name? I’m James. James Murray.”**

You can’t help it. Heat floods your face as his voice caresses your fantasies and leaves you a stumbling mess; he must sense your unease for he grasps your hand slightly tighter. Not that you could possibly know, but the gears in Murr’s head are turning. The other Jokers are out of the picture now and it means that he can make a move without being scrutinised and mocked if it doesn’t work out.

 **“[Y-Y/N]...”** you whisper, cursing your teetering tone and from beside you James smirks slightly. You’re adorable... and the sleek black dress that hugs your body in all the right ways... it’s making him a little hot under the collar. The hand on your waist twitches, testing the waters, before slipping a little lower. Of course you notice... but all your do is clutch his shoulder closer to you, breathing in his scent and feeling warmth course through your body; as if all of the colour in your face is spreading like a thin layer of paint from the tip of your head to the bottom of your feet.

 **“All right,”** Murr calls, startling you briefly. **“There are a few more things you can do to be a more successful partner. Don’t be afraid to hold your partner close.”**

The shift in the room is incredible. The Joker has next to no clue what he’s talking about but everybody does as he says, bodies seeming to mesh closer together simply because he willed it. All that remains is to follow suit.

 **“James,”** You murmur weakly as you feel his lean body lightly against yours. It’s too much, you’re strangers... and yet the desire to be ever-closer eats away at you because he’s attractive as all hell and you want more of him. Your teacher doesn’t appear to respond, just spins you (which takes you by surprise though you manage to perform it well) and you come back to him with your back to his chest. Hands slip down your arms, palms smooth and forcing goosebumps to erupt and his lips are close to your ear all over again and--

 **“I hope the others are focused on my lesson,”** he breathes hotly, voice low in your ear and, while he can’t see you, you close your eyes and bite your lip as your knees quiver. His hands are shifting, fingers teasing by slipping over your stomach and brushing your hips. **“Wouldn’t want them to see this...”**

You force yourself to keep quiet as his teeth lightly catch the sensitive flesh of your earlobe before he pulls away to call _‘sway, sway, it’s all in the hips!’_ , reassigning himself to you afterwards, tricky hands all but drumming against your stomach. The fabric of your dress is only thin and you can feel the heat of his skin; you want it on you, even if it’s just a mindless fling in the cupboard... and as he begins to sway from side to side, his lips brushing down your neck and his tongue brushing against the very essence of your existence, pulse thumping beneath his wet, open-mouthed kisses, you feel the slightest pressure being applied against your rear.

Sucking in a breath, you press back, trying to convince yourself that it’s in warning rather than reciprocation. From his close vicinity, you hear the hitch of his breath and feel the shift of his face as one of his hands makes its way from your hip to your jaw, tilting it up. The corners of your mouths touch and the smouldering tint in his eyes would have paralysed you had he not guided you smoothly across the floor with his firm body.

His warmth is what keeps you meshed against him and you’re both grateful and disappointed when he spins you again, arriving front to front with him once more as your hands reassign to their respective positions. Still, his thumb is stroking and it’s making you tingly and he keeps looking at your lips, very obviously might you add, and--

**“And when the dance is done, guys, you wanna bow at the waist--”**

Murr pauses, releasing you (to which you very nearly whine at) and bowing, before he straightens up again.

**“--And take the lady’s hand and give it a kiss.”**

And no sooner has he said such a sentence has he grasped one of yours and brought it up to his lips, seductive gaze flitting from your skin to your eyes, a smirk that makes your cheeks flush stretching lightly across his face.

**"...and hope you _see her again._ ”**


	9. Cramps Aren't Fun (All/Reader)

**When you’re on your period Q** would settle down with you on the couch and let you choose whatever movie you want and make you your favourite meals and not get mad when you have odd cravings. He’d get you heat packs for your stomach and stroke through your hair when your cramps get really bad.

 **When you’re on your period Sal** would settle you in the bath and wash your hair for you and massage your shoulders and press gentle kisses to your forehead while the heat of the water soothes your pain. He’d let you wear one of his shirts - practically giving it to you to keep - and would give you cuddles despite your heavier days.

 **When you're on your period Joe** would settle you in front of the couch with your favourite movie/TV show while he cooks you your favourite snack as well as some thoughtful baked goods (such as banana muffins given potassium eases cramps, etc). Aside from food, he’d generally be very cuddly and clingy with you, only leaving you alone if you specifically ask to be left. He’d respect your need for space but would be there at your beck and call should you need him.

 **When you're on your period Murr** would give you a make-shift spa-day, setting you up in the bathroom and giving you a full-body massage. He’d be very doting, pressing gentle kisses to your neck as he goes, rubbing his hands down your outer thighs to soothe the ache. Murr would try to make something for you but would ultimately fail so would settle on buying your favourite treat instead. He’d generally be very attentive and gentle and would even adjust his tone, speaking lower so as not to aggravate you; you’d tell him it isn’t necessary… but he’d do it anyway, just to stay on your good side.


	10. Filthy (Sal/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

You barely make it through his front door before he’s slammed you against the wall and kissed you so hard you forget how to breathe. Immediately, you feel hands exploring you and the scratch of his beard against your chin and it heats you from the inside out, legs threatening to give out as the Joker takes to unbuttoning your coat and hanging it absent-mindedly from muscle memory alone, his own following sloppily. After the pair of you kick your shoes off, your mouths are reconnected harshly once more, hands travelling over bodies like they’ve never been explored before.

Sal all but drags you onto the couch, mounting your body before you have a chance to even blink. His weight atop you brings a sense of relief and, as he presses his hips into you and you feel the growing excitement between his legs, your pulse increases and you moan with sheer joy when he kisses you once more. What can you say without sounding cliche? He completes you-- he fixes the loneliness that has been eating away at you ever since you can remember.

**“[Y/N]...”** Sal breathes heavily in between kisses, heated exchanges driving you wild as you arch your hips off of the couch and grind into him. **“Thanks for cutting the night short and coming home with me... couldn’t take it any more...”**

He’s already sliding his hands under your shirt, tearing fabric away with speed and desperation as you laze back and let him. It’s not that you don’t feel the passion, rather that you’re the reason he’s in this state in the first place; sitting opposite him while he’d been trying to play an insignificant game of cards with the guys and rubbing against him with your foot. He’d kept giving you pleading glances when the Jokers were preoccupied and caught up in conversation - and you had given him a grin the devil would have been proud of and pressed harder, your tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth as you feigned concentration. His lips had pressed tightly together and he’d mouthed ‘stop that’ several times before his mood - and admittedly, his hardness - had changed, silent warnings turning more erotic as he’d switched to ‘‘I’m going to fuck you when we get home’. All you had done was grinned wolfishly, daring him.

Cool air hits your bare body and you realise with some amount of admiration that he’s already undressed you and is unbuckling his belt. As Sal slides his pants and boxers down his legs, you’re left to stare at the hard length, a smirk tugging at your lips. Oh, you want him; you want him so badly... but it’s fun to see how far you can push him, and so it is with a confident hand that you reach out and run your thumb over his tip.

Sal doesn’t even flinch.

**“No,”** he growls, slapping your wrist. Staring at him with a look of bafflement, a blush adorns your cheeks as you realise you rather like aggressive Sal, lids lowering to a half-open state as you stare up at him, awaiting his next move. Off-handedly, the Joker takes your hair in his grasp and thrusts himself into your mouth. You would have gasped had your mouth not been full and it’s with increasingly heated breaths that you realise he isn’t even letting you adjust. Perhaps some would find it brutal... but not you. You need this treatment - otherwise sex doesn’t work.

Letting him fuck your mouth with pride, you sink to your knees (him moving with you as you slip from the couch to the floor) and slide a hand down your front to tend to yourself.

**“Don’t you dare.”**

Pausing, a tiny sound akin to a complaint passes your lips. Sal is through with you teasing him in such a way... as far as he’s concerned, this is the price to pay for doing this to him, for putting him through what could have ultimately been an embarrassing endeavour. He regards your stuffed face with a cool gaze, the only sign that he’s turned on at all being the way he bites his lower lip as he watches you, brow furrowing with concentration as he works on not cumming too soon. Sal wants to drag this out, after all.

_**“Please...?”** _ Your voice is muffled by his throbbing erection sliding in and out of your wet mouth but the heat in his eyes gives him away as he stares and watches you. There’s a period of defiant silence in which he says nothing, just watches... before he sighs - as if you’re being petulant, and goddamn it that makes you want it more - and gestures to between your legs.

**“Touch yourself for me.”**

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers slip between wet folds and find the bundle of nerves that’s going to be your undoing. A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face though it’s short-lived as he resumes his dominant position, his hips still bucking into your warm mouth. As you slide your index finger over your clit, practically drooling at the feeling of pleasure mounting daggers into your spine, his motions become slightly more sporadic, breath heaving as he pulls away and forces you back by mounting you as he had before.

You cry out in surprise, then whine at the feeling of pleasure being cut off as your hands move from your sensitive spot to cushion your fall-- but he’s upon you in an instant, two of his own fingers being shoved into your mouth, forcing you to wet them, before he slides them into you and begins moving them at a breakneck pace, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and the hot blush covering your cheeks turns redder.

**“You like that?”** The Joker coaxes in a harsh tone, breathless voice still carrying assertion, a feeling of hot satisfaction welling in his gut as you nod uselessly. **“You want more, baby...?”** And again with the nodding and he’s relentless as his thumb comes to push against your clit, making you all but scream his name as the tension builds and-- you’re so close. **“I’ll tell you something, [Y/N]. I’m going to fuck you so hard the only thing you’ll remember is _my name._ ”**

And as simple, and as complicated, as that, you feel him enter you with a roughness foreign to the sensitive man. Immediately, you feel relief - no longer are you empty, no longer are you aching for him, because he’s here and he’s full and he’s so good--

**“S--Sal, I-I--”**

Forming words is as impossible as turning your emotions off at this point and he acknowledges this with a tight-lipped smirk, mouth catching your ear and hot, dirty syllables being spoken in a tone no louder than a whisper.

**“Cum for me, [Y/N]-- tell me how good it feels; fucking _scream it--_ ”**

You’re unravelling before he’s even finished, orgasm hot and heavy and so intense you see blinding shapes form before your eyes as they roll back and a wail of his name passes your lips, a string of ‘oh fuck!’s leaving you as you repay him in kind, lascivious phrases of how amazing he feels and how astoundingly you’ve been fucked meeting his ears and causing him to grunt.

Sal isn’t far after you, hot load hitting your insides with force that makes you keen and scrape your nails down his back, leaving marks you know won’t fade for a while; and that’s okay, for he’s yours and you’re his and if anybody tries to deny that then they’re sorely mistaken. Countless pants of _‘Sal, Sal, Sal...’_ leave you as both ride out your highs together, him still moving in you long after the pair of you have finished.

Finally, he slows and stops, like a jutting train reaching the platform, but the feeling of him still inside you brings a tidal wave of emotion crashing into you as you take his face in your hands and kiss him deeply, tongues meshing heatedly together as hands trail desperately over faces and fingers entangle themselves in hair. You’re both sprawled on the floor, Sal’s weight atop you the constant reminder that you’re not alone and, as long as he is there, never will be.

**“Oh, [Y/N]...,”** heaves Sal, finally managing to muster the strength to move off of you and lay beside you on the ground, chest rising and falling almost as quickly as he had been moving mere moments ago. You lay there in a daze, everything seeming brighter whilst you try to string a coherent sentence together. **“...holy shit...”**

All you can bring yourself to do is blink and nod because _holy shit indeed._


	11. I Lost For You, Man! (Joe/Reader)

**“I can’t believe you just did that!”**

Murr puts the pad of his index finger to his tongue and makes a ‘tss’ sound as he takes it away, grinning a smug grin. They’d been performing pranks by the dozen for hours on end now, just trying to catch one another out. They’d succeeded a few times - Sal wouldn’t lick someone’s shoe (the top, mind you!), Murr hadn’t had the strength to pick up a huge buff guy and Q had ultimately lost his nerve when approaching a pretty girl and asking for an ‘impromptu blowie’ before his shift at the liquor store.

**“Believe it, Sal! Taking a guy’s shoe and running off with it is nothing compared to the shit you’ve made me do!”**

The Jokers give each glances at the other’s statement... before they shrug their shoulders and nod in agreement. Hell, if they’d have told Murr to put the damn thing in his mouth, he probably would have.

Q turns to Joe and raises a brow, looking vaguely impressed. **“Couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t lost once yet, Joey. Quite a streak you’ve got there; would be a shame if someone spoiled it.”**

Joe snorts, hands moving to his hips as he comically puffs out his chest with mock-pride. **“Do your worst, hobo. I’m not feelin’ a loss today.”**

The long-haired male smirks and turns on his heel, walking off. Joe briefly wonders where he’s going... but he knows it ultimately won’t be good for him. Just because he’s shameless doesn’t mean that his friends aren’t geniuses when coming up with stupid things for him to do; he often feels the heat despite going through with the tasks they try to put him off with.

From the corner of his eye, he regards you. You’ve done surprisingly well for your first Prank-Off, only faltering in your resolve twice (Sal, a ‘proper Joker’, had lost three times!). Currently you slouch on a bench in the park, napping, palm digging in lightly to your cheek as your elbow keeps you elevated. Joe feels a smile tugging at the corner of his lips; you’ve always been so adorable.

 **“All right.”** It’s Quinn’s voice that breaks his trance, the loud Joker turning his body to face him. What he sees instantly puts him on edge: a bucket of water and it’s so chilled he can almost feel the ice it had been mixed with. Eyes regard the foreign object - because where the hell had Q gotten a bucket from anyway?! - with slight wariness before Joe picks up his gaze and raises an eyebrow in silent question. Q bears teeth in a wicked grin. **“This is for you.”**

Joe shrugs off-handedly at him, taking the bucket. By now, Sal and Murr have turned to watch the spectacle, curiosity and slight excitement lining their features as Brian’s plan begins to unfold. His palms begin to turn cold as he holds it and his conscience even colder for he can tell where this is going. It’s going to be an unpleasant batch of explaining on his part... but he can always say that he tripped with it when it hits an unsuspecting citizen. It’s heavy after all.

**“All over [Y/N]. Let’s go - wake up _Sleeping Beauty_.”**

Gatto opens his mouth and then promptly closes it once more. In theory, he should just turn around and do it. He likes you, but even you would look funny sopping wet and gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to collect your bearings; perhaps even a curse word or two would slip your lips, and it’s always a treat when you swear, not because you don’t do it but because you make the words sound so good.

**“...no way man, she’s part of this.”**

**“Is--”** Brian leans in with a smirk on his face, hand to his ear. **“Is that a refusal I hear?”**

 **“Q--”** But the bearded man has already yanked the bucket from Joe’s hands and is grinning from ear to ear as he declares _‘that’s a loss!’_ before tossing the bucket in your direction - and it would have hit you had Joe not leapt into action, arms above his head knocking the damn thing off course and dousing him instead.

It’s the curse - a loud _‘FUCK!’_ \- that startles you awake and a wet Joe Gatto greets you. You blink sleep from your eyes, leap into action on feet that aren’t quite ready to stand-- and then you laugh. The other Jokers’ brows raise in surprise... before bursting out laughing along with you.

**

The prank war ends there and then, with Joe picking up the discarded bucket and lobbing it at Q’s face (which makes Sal collapse to the ground with laughter) and proceeding towards him with sopping wet hands that rake through his hair and make him look ‘even more homeless’ (as he’d so eloquently described the grease-esque quality the water had given it). Sitting in Joe’s living room, courtesy of you wanting to spend a little time with him due to sleeping most of the day once your turns had been through, you marvel at the new clothes he’s clad in, elegantly simple as usual.

 **“Sorry you got wet on my account,”** you say quietly, giving him your best apologetic smile. Since he’d explained why he’d been wet there had been a sense of guilt in your stomach; sure, it was really down to Q being an idiot but it’s difficult for you to accept such a fact when he’d gotten soaked with freezing water protecting you.

Of course, being Joe Gatto, he only scoffs and brushes you off. **“That’s the third time you’ve said sorry, man - let it go.”**

You laugh as he does and he’s sitting beside you on the couch and places a warm palm on your knee. You try not to think about it too much, heat radiating from his skin and through your legwear. There has _always_ been something interesting between the pair of you but neither of you are willing to address it. Not yet - and by the looks of things, Joe is simply being kind as one of his eyebrows dips and the smile on his face broadens into a grin.

**“Besides, couldn’t let you get all wet. You’re adorable when you’re asleep.”**

You smile a wry smile. **“Because I’m _quiet_?”**

**“ _Sure_.”**

There’s a silence that surrounds you but it isn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with unanswered concerns and innocent questions. The huge _‘why, why why’_ that hangs in the air between you is so prominent that you wonder why he hasn’t explained himself unprompted yet; you take it upon yourself to make him.

 **“...you didn’t have to do that,”** you say tentatively, blinking before glancing down at the hand that is still settled on your leg. Joe is watching you, that brilliant blue gaze that you’d fallen in love with a while ago swimming with emotions that escape you; sometimes it’s tiresome, how perfect he is, because you know you can never be up there with him. Suddenly, forcing yourself to break the tension, you nudge him with your elbow. **“Why’d you take the loss, dummy?”**

Gatto scoffs. **“A thank you would suffice.”**

You’re not sure what overtakes you in that moment. Maybe it’s the way his grin sobers as you lock eyes; or maybe it’s the way that his eyes flicker momentarily to your lips and everything quietens down; maybe it’s the way you’ve wanted him for months. Regardless, something gives you the confidence to push forward and press your lips against his. The hand on your knee vacates to your face, warm skin resting against yours as he caresses and holds you - and you _melt_ , you really do, hands moving to clutch the fabric of his shirt.

You pull away. You don’t want to but you do - and you see the Joker looking dazed, eyes flickering open as he regards you with something you’ve never seen before. The desire for more, the need for more, and it makes you feel hot inside as you take the initiative once more and kiss him again, much harder, much more desperately, action carrying such weight you fear you’ll knock him backwards. However, he reciprocates, body sliding towards yours on the couch and tongue all but meshing against yours. A soft moan from you stirs him, makes him grunt.

Pulling back after the intense exchange, you can see him breathing hard, staring at you as if you’re the only thing he sees. The Joker leans in again, brushes his mouth against yours and then chuckles lightly, forehead coming to rest against yours as those oceanic orbs stare at you.

**“A kiss is better than a thank you.”**

A grin marks your face wickedly. **“And a makeout is better than a kiss.”**


	12. How They Kiss You - (All/Reader)

**Q would kiss you** craftily and with purpose. There’s nothing he’s shy about, a rather virile and attentive lover, he likes to make you squirm. He’ll often use tongue and his fingers will almost always trace your neck with softness that contrasts to the meshing of lips in a way that makes you shudder; it always leaves you wanting more.

 **Sal would kiss you** coyly but with complete volition. Sometimes when he has a boost of confidence, he’ll catch your lower lip between his teeth and listen to you giggle with a relieved smile painting his features bright. Generally, you’ll kiss slowly and deeply, passion lining your every move.

 **Joe would kiss you** playfully. There’d never be a kiss, aside from when you’re making love, that isn’t fun in some way. Sometimes he’ll stroke down your arms or your spine in a fashion that elicits giggles while you kiss each other’s lips sweetly. When in a more passionate mood, he’ll exert a level of control over your mouth, tongue-kissing and otherwise, that leaves you weak in the knees.

 **Murr would kiss you** sweetly. He’ll always make you feel loved with his kisses, tiny utterances of ‘I adore you’ and ‘you’re beautiful’ with his mouth ghosting yours before giving you another one. His fingers would brush hair out of your face and caress your face. When more frisky, he’ll move in to kiss you, teasing you with the promise of one, before he pulls away again and gives you a wicked grin - you’ll eventually grow so desperate that you’ll take his face in your hands and smash your lips to his.


	13. How They Hold Your Hand (All/Reader)

**Q would hold your hand** tightly. Possessive and even somewhat broody in his approach, Q always makes sure that his palm is meshed tightly against yours and that you walk closely together because of it. More relaxed at home, he’ll gently lock your hands together, the balls of your palms squashed together so that it tickles, making you giggle. He lives for that giggle.

 **Sal would hold your hand** secretively. He likes to keep his private life private and you’ve come to respect that more than ever. However, because of this need for privacy, you’ve developed sweet little gestures that are the equivalent of hand-holding for the pair of you: locking pinkies as you walk (keeping them lodged between the pair of you so that you’re meshed together down the sidewalk) is one of your favourites.

 **Joe would hold your hand** overtly. If there’s a guy who likes to declare ‘hey guys, look at this fabulous girl on my arm!’, it’s Joe. He does anything to draw attention to your tightly-locked fingers, swinging your arms while you walk and bringing the back of your hand to his lips to brush his lips over your knuckles, sometimes one at a time and sometimes in one playful swoop.

 **Murr would hold your hand** romantically. He’s a drop-dead romantic at heart, likes an element of chivalry in his actions and so you’ll lock hands together with your wrists crossed and your fingers interlaced. Sometimes you’ll bump into his side gently in order to get him to loosen up - and he’ll laugh and just hold your fingers between his, eventually coming nearer to you to give his arm to you.


	14. How They Turn You On (All/Reader)

**Q turns you on by** taking a more rough approach. When he’s in the mood to be intimate with you - and this is by no means a rare thing - he will all but slam you against the nearest surface and kiss you so hard you forget how to breathe, his lips curving into a perfect smirk you as cling to his shirt, material balled up in your fists. He’ll marvel at the way your knees shake as he pushes himself closer to you and will begin to assault your neck, leaving visible marks behind.

 **Sal turns you on by** taking you by surprise. You’ll be cooking and he will sneak up behind you, so smoothly you don’t even realise he’s there, before pressing feather light kisses to the back of your neck whilst his hands slip down your sides and tease the edges of your hips. Or you’ll be cuddling on the couch and he’ll suddenly turn so that his lips graze your ear and you’re left shuddering in anticipation as he murmurs _‘I can’t concentrate on the film, baby… wanna go upstairs with me?_ ’.

 **Joe turns you on by** being forward. He has such a personality that whenever he goes for something, it’s never quite demanding, just aggressive enough to make you weak in the knees. He’ll nibble on your ear lobe and you’ll mumble ‘Joe, not now…’ because you’re never willing to admit how desperate he makes you feel - and he’ll persist, hot breath by your ear as he murmurs ‘But I want to. And I know with some persuasion you will too, [Y/N]…’ before trailing ravenous kisses from your jaw to your throat, hands fluttering all over your body as you’re left to slowly melt into him.

 **Murr turns you on by** being overtly dominant. Being rather sweet in nature, you love it when his conniving side comes out; nothing turns you on more than when he tricks you into coming into the kitchen, only to leave you confused when you don’t see him immediately. He takes advantage of your disorientation, pinning you to the kitchen counter with your back against his chest, groin pushing forwards into your rear in a way that just makes you push back against him. When you moan softly, he makes raunchy comments about how good you sound beneath him


	15. You're My Favourite  (Joe/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

You don’t bother meeting his eyes as he kneels in front of you and grins. There’s no energy left in you to return it, no motivation to pretend any more; a glassy eyed stare bores past him and burns into the far wall as you try to ignore him and, better yet, the crippling loneliness that eats away at you.

**“You can’t ignore me forever.”**

Ah, Joe Gatto. Resilient, sometimes annoyingly so, and it takes everything you have not to crumble under his compassion. Begrudgingly, your [E/C] gaze flickers to look at him and lock on his, and they’re just as beautiful as ever, all ocean and gemstone and you could get lost if you let yourself--

But you don’t. Instead, you turn away from him and mumble, **“Leave me alone, Joe.”**

The words sting him more than he cares to admit for he cares endlessly about you. The pair of you are in unknown territory, a scary ‘I-don’t-know-where-I-stand-with-you’ circumstance that has the pair of you treading on ice whenever you’re around anybody but each other. He wishes it could be easier... and yet it isn’t, perhaps because you’re so guarded and he has no idea what to do about it.

Joe sighs and picks himself up, perching on the end of the couch and laying a hand on your shin. Leg twitches under his warm fingers and, after kindly reminding yourself how to breathe, you proceed to bury your face into the couch. You’re not in the mood and yet you can tell already that he’s going to work around it.

 **“[Y/N], please talk to me,”** he speaks up, voice as tight as your chest as it constricts at the sound of his hurt. Trying not to put too much thought into it, you reluctantly sit up and turn to him with a look of begrudging sadness. You try not to show it around Joe for he’s far too receptive to it; it damages him, hurts him. The last thing you need is to cause him grief.

 **“I’m just tired,”** you quietly murmur, pulling your legs up and tucking them underneath you as you look at him with a pitiful countenance. **“...tired of being nobody’s ‘favourite’, you know? I know it’s dumb, just-- it’s dumb, forget it."**

For a short while, nothing is said and you feel you’ve insulted him in some way when all he does is stare at you. Keen [E/C] eyes watch him, watch those bright blue eyes clouding over as he tries to comprehend how you can feel so lonely when he’s there with you.

 **“[Y/N],”** Gatto murmurs, surprisingly delicate as he shifts closer to you. Swallowing hard as his knee touches yours, you avert your gaze to stare at your hands which wring in your lap with a nerve you haven’t felt since your younger years. Can’t quite bring yourself to look at him, can’t quite bring yourself to ignore him - you’re stuck either way. The latter wins out when you feel warm fingers settle on your face and it is with hitched breath that you slowly turn your head to look at him.

The chance to say anything slips by for a feather-light kiss is pressed to your mouth. Stunned, and frankly, a little frightened by the unexplored territory, you sit rigid in his gentle grasp and blink rapidly as he pulls away. Brain swimming with questions, you glance up at him imploringly - and all but gasp when you see a shift in those fascinating eyes of his, all upturned waves and thunder.

 **“Never feel second best, [Y/N],”** Joe breathes, nose bumping lightly against yours as he leans in once more. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re left to close your eyes lightly as his lips touch yours once more. He’s never there for too long and that makes you ache for him, your mouth slowly moving against his as hands shakily reach for the fabric of his shirt and clutch it. When he feels that, well, he’s spurred on by desire he’s held back for what feels like decades, bodies coming together as if they were always meant to.

You shift into his lap, desperate to feel anything but empty, your heart thumping a mile a minute whilst you kiss him senseless, let him put his hands beneath your shirt and feel at the warm skin of your back. Sighing with contentment when you feel his soft lips trail down your chin and over your jaw, pulling you ever closer, you begin to realise your error. Joe obviously adores you - and whatever is going on right now has always been present, just buried under a hundred and one layers of uncertainty and fear of things changing.

 **“You’re my favourite, [Y/N],”** mouths Joe, as his teeth lightly scrape against your earlobe and have you moaning softly, body arching against his while his hands slip down to your rear and stroke over the curve of it. Oh, it feels so good.

**“Show me.”**

A tense moment passes in which the Joker catches your eye and holds the gaze until he no longer can, shying away from it as he lays you down on your back and hovers above you on his hands and knees. He’s too far away...so you pull him down for a kiss, feeling his tongue meld against yours which has you arching your hips to meet his, listening to the hitch of his breath as you brush him.

Mouth diverts and you feel the brush of his fingers undoing your shirt as his soft lips leave kisses from the sweet spot below your ear to your collar bones, sucking until he leaves his mark while you stroke through his hair and encourage him with little nods every time he looks up at you. It’s as if he’s seeking permission; little does he know you’d already given it to him months ago.

Joe kisses down your stomach, works your pants from your legs and rests a large hand on your hips as he debates on touching you in the place you need him most. His hesitation frustrates you, because it has taken so much effort for you to throw your pride away and accept that you had been wrong.

 **“Joe, _please_ ,”** you moan wantonly, eyes slipping closed as he gives a small nod and progresses, fingers slipping between your legs and nose catching the aroma of your arousal as it settles on the waistband of your underwear, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips as you raise your hips to feel the friction of his digits.

 **“Patience, patience, [Y/N].”** The hot syllables burn you from the inside out as the Joker begins to rub his fingers against your building wetness. Slowly, feelings of loneliness begin to melt away and you relax into a sense of belonging. Joe wants you. Joe needs you. You reach forward and press your hand against the forming bulge in his pants, breath shuttering as you picture him becoming one with you, washing your demons away on waves of pleasure they have no chance of overpowering. Breathing increases as his speed does and you all but turn to jelly as his fingers brush past the fabric and feel along your opening.

**“ _Joe_.”**

It’s a warning and the smirk he gives you as you lock eyes only makes you more aggravated, though you kindly relax when you feel two of his long fingers vaguely prepare you before entering you. Joe revels in the sound of the sweet moan of his name that passes your lips as he finally caves and gives you what you desire, hand beginning to form a rhythm as his eyes fix on your face. He’s enchanted with the way your eyes close, the way your brow furrows lightly in concentration as you chase the pleasure he allows you, how you sigh just a little too heavily for it to be a casual encounter. And all the time your hand is still going, going, going.

His thumb brushes your clit as you groan the words, **“I need you now.”**

 **“Fuck, [Y/N]...”** whispers Joe as he slowly guides you up and watches as you unbutton his jeans and drag them, along with his underwear, down his legs; he expects you’ll take them off the rest of the way, but all you do is guide him back against the sofa so that he’s sat beneath you and lower yourself onto him at a pace you deem fit. All the time, you’re watching his face, taking in the sight of his lightly flushed cheeks and the flutter of his eyelids as you grant him the relief of your warm wetness coating him whole.

Up and down, the motion sets in, and what would otherwise bore you is now an exciting new opportunity as you drink in everything he grants you. Pressing warm little kisses to the skin of his neck, his jaw, the corners of his lips (and watching as he tilts his head and mouths how badly he wants to kiss you, only to keep one step ahead and pull away).

 **“I’m sorry, Joe,”** you whisper against the shell of his ear, hands sliding down his chest as you continue to move against him, revelling in the feeling of him filling you to the hilt, shuddering in anticipation as the pleasure builds and your core begins to coil. **“I didn’t consider you... I’m sorry.”**

**“For the love of God, [Y/N], it’s _okay_ \-- just _kiss me_.”**

Ever the lover, you concede, lips meshing passionately against his and your tongues once again become acquainted with one another. Exploring one another is something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the nerve. You’re not even sure how he’d suddenly gathered the courage to break the regime and start this but you’re definitely not complaining as you feel the pleasure building to a state you can hardly manage.

**“Joe--”**

**“Me too.”**

The mutual understanding between you only makes it ten times more powerful when you finally climax, feeling him following you only a moment later. The Joker clings to you as a guttural groan passes his lips, harmonising with your high-pitched cry as you dig your nails into his shoulders and realise a fraction of a second too late that you’re going to leave marks, feeling Joe’s fingers tangle in your hair and a hand slip down your back as he holds you close.

When you both calm down enough to look each other in the eye, he leans up and kisses you softly, lips barely catching yours, and the sweetness that touches them has you almost in tears. How could you have overlooked this extraordinary man for so long, allowed feelings of worthlessness to consume you when he was around? You just stare at him, speechless, and only break the stare when you feel him helping you off of his lap. He cuddles against you, pulling your naked frame to him and slipping his shirt from his shoulders (because you couldn’t wait to remove it), covering your body with it. The pleasant warmth, the scent of him enveloping you... it’s enough to have you snuggling against him.

 **“If you ever feel like this again, tell me,”** Joe murmurs quietly once his breath has been caught, lips pressing tenderly to your neck as he leaves butterfly kisses in his wake. **“I love you, [Y/N.]. I never want you to feel like this. And remember--”**

You smile as Joe leans in a little further, kissing your cheek.

**“You’re my favourite.”**


	16. Sunday Mornings (Sal/Reader)

The beating of rain against the window pane has you in a light doze as Sal shifts beneath you and rearranges his arms around your frame. A typical Sunday, lazy and useless and beautiful all in its own right. And the thing is, it’s all you need; snuggling with Sal while the rain pours, getting up for sluggish snack breaks before reassigning yourselves to bed, sometimes engaging in slow, languid sex, slow deep kisses and low-pitched grunting... it’s all you want.

And every Sunday, you’ll ask him the same question:

**“Sal. Are we going to move today?”**

You’ll giggle as he slowly opens his eyes - because he hardly ever blocks you out by actually falling asleep - and gives you a look. A look in which his brow dips challengingly and his plump lips curl into a smirk; an expression that would have had you weak in the knees had you ever gotten out of bed. Instead, you settle for a delicious heat pooling in your stomach that twists and turns as he leans up with effort and presses a series of tiny kisses to your lips and jaw.

**“Nah.”**

Today, on this particular Sunday, he seems especially clingy, arms hardly ever releasing you (you’d had to practically wrestle him to go to the bathroom) as he pressed his nose into your neck and then your hair, inhaling deeply and sighing in contentment.

 **“You’re gonna have to let go sometime,”** you speak up, snickering as you feel his arms tighten around your frame and his lips against your cheek.

**“Not if I can help it. I happen to like you better when you’re in my arms, [Y/N].”**

**“Cheek! I’m a gift all the time!”**

That has his laugh in your ear, enthusiastic and breathy as he attempts to recollect himself. Because his happiness is so contagious, especially when you’re together all day, you begin to laugh too, until you’re both in stitches and clutching one another for support rather than just out of love. As you both sober, you catch each other’s eye and Sal reaches and strokes the length of your face with a careful thumb. His knuckle gently caressing the soft skin of your face has your cheeks lighting up slightly and a slow smile begins to form on the male’s face.

**“You’re right. You are a gift. How’d someone like you end up with someone like me?”**

**“Sal...”**

No more words pass your lips. Instead you lean in and press your mouth against his in the form of a slow, deep, passionate kiss, tongue searching for his and meshing against it with your own once you do. It’s perfect; the taste of him stains your awareness and your hands lightly stroke down the back of his neck. You pull away, nuzzling your nose against his playfully. You smile.

**“Sundays are my _favourite_.”**


	17. Calming Down (Q/Reader)

Large hands settle on your face and for a moment you’re ripped out of your terror to see a familiar face that isn’t blurry. Brian. Brian Quinn. He’s saying something - a monosyllabic that has you furrowing your brow as you breathe hard and try to understand him, try to hear him.

But it’s all _too much_.

Panic attacks are horrendous things, and being caught in the middle of a crowd when it happens is even worse. People veer away from you, as if you’re mad with disease, and you can see the other three Jokers attempting to console you. But every touch they apply is like static, every word they say falls on deaf ears. Every hug offered is like Death himself coiling around you and squeezing the life out of your lungs.

 **“Guys, GUYS. Back off!”** Brian shouts above all the commotion and his three friends stop flailing and bouncing on their feet and Murr slips his phone away because _ambulances aren’t necessary for panic attacks_. Q inhales deeply, makes a gesture with his hand that states ‘wait here’ before he guides you to a secluded spot - a small alleyway opposite the bakery you’d been heading to with the guys - and leans you against the wall. His hands are once again touching your face and you respond violently, shoving at his arms while your breaths shudder and threaten to choke you as your vision blurs.

 **“Get off, get off-- _get off_!”** You’re screaming and struggling, as if he’s going to attack you, and Q is grasping at your wrists and shushing you. He’s surprised by your actions - and even more surprised that nobody has checked what is going on out of concern. He would understand. A man seemingly forcing a woman against the wall of an alleyway does seem sketchy; alas, nobody comes and it comforts him to know that he is not a monster that requires stopping.

**“[Y/N], [Y/N]... it’s okay. Breathe with me - seven in and seven out.”**

Minutes pass and your actions begin to falter, weakness overtaking your system. You’re tired and you’re scared and you’re leaning into the man in front of you and lightly beating your forehead against his chest with agitated grunts because _why the fuck are you so stupid_? Crying and causing a scene, shaking like a leaf at nothing... it _disgusts_ you.

You sob. You sob because it’s the only way you can release the pent-up anger boiling inside of you. Why are you this way? Why are you so nervous, so scared? Why the fuck do you live in fear? And most importantly, why do you make other people around you suffer? You cry and clutch at his jacket, beginning to shake all over again because of the fear that he finds you stupid, and weak, and more trouble than you’re worth. Anxiety is an evil little thing, always clipping away at your ego and shrouding your thoughts in dark; just once, you’d like to be able to go into a crowd and not feel like everybody is judging you.

 **“Shh, [Y/N], it’s okay...”** Brian murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head and soothingly rubbing at your back. Your body shutters like a door with one hinge when the wind blows and it’s as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright as you begin inhaling more deeply.

_Seven in, seven out... seven in, seven out.... seven, seven, seven..._

It’s minutes before you can muster any kind of words and, as Brian feels you slump against his form with weakness, he expects the ones that do come.

**“...I’m so sorry.”**

Q shakes his head, wills himself to keep level for your sake. **“Don’t be ridiculous.”**

As you begin to calm from the attack, weariness washing over you as you lean hard against Q’s solid frame, a slight smile tugs at the corner of your lips as he pulls back and presses his lips to your forehead. He’s gentle, the scratch of his bear making you feel safer as he pulls you back into his arms and holding you more firmly than before. Soft phrases meet your ears as your breathing finally levels out.

**“You’re gonna be okay, [Y/N]. I’m here to keep you safe.”**


	18. Drunken Nights (Murr/Reader)

He’s practically piggybacking you as he kicks open the front door wide enough to shuffle through it while your palms press clumsily against his chest and shoulders as your feet swing on either side of him. Murr is, quite honestly, used to being the drunken one, and though he’s often within the limits of his own lightweight tolerance, he can’t remember a time he’s deviated from it so far that he’s gotten as drunk as you currently are.

 **“Jamessssss,”** you slur, then hiccup over your words. Murr sets you down on one side of the couch before moving to the door and closing it again. It’s with a heavy sigh that he does before he collapses on the opposite end of the couch.

Even in your drunken haze, you can comprehend how tired he appears, what with bags under his eyes and how his limbs flop to the side and how his eyes unsuspectingly flutter closed while you practically hold your breath whilst taking in his features. Even in your drunken haze, you can comprehend how beautiful he is; and perhaps, with emboldened confidence, you can comprehend how badly you want him.

You shuffle in close and rest your head on his shoulders before nudging his neck with your nose. Murr sighs softly, most likely at his sensitive skin being touched, and this propels you to deliver a soft array of kisses while nonsensically thanking him for taking you home. A tiny sound akin to a moan passes his lips, a hand reaching out and resting on your knee as he turns his head to you and kisses you softly. Insistent you are, and it isn’t long before you’re prying his mouth open and exploring his mouth with your tongue, hands clamping on each side of his face as your cheeks burn red. The Joker responds, sighing heatedly into your mouth… before he pulls away and puts his hands on your shoulders to hold you back.

 **“You’re drunk, [Y/N],”** he says wearily, though the words don’t have the warning effect he wants them to for his cheeks are flushed and he’s breathing hard and his shirt is a mess from how you’d tugged at his collar– the sight is delightful, even though you’re intoxicated as hell. Rolling your eyes, you lean in once more but feel him hold you back. **“No, [Y/N]. Not tonight.”**

This time, the message clicks in your head. He doesn’t want to take advantage of you. As drunk as you are, you do spare a few seconds to understand and feel a pleasant warmth in your chest before you watch him stand up and offer his hands. Cluelessly, you take them.

 **“Let’s get you to bed,”** James says, cute little half-smile forming as he begins to lead you towards the stairs.

**“You’re coming too?”**

**“I’ll tuck you in, so to speak.”**

You pout at him all the way up the stairs, stumbling once or twice and being overly gracious when Murr is there to make sure you don’t fall. His arms secure themselves around your waist by the time you reach the top stair and you’ve given up on walking entirely, letting him pull you along as gracefully as possible. He’s incredibly strong for somebody who’s built like a pencil.

The Joker pulls back the covers and sits you down on the bed before making his way out of the door. For a moment, you believe you’ve been left to your own devices and so slip under the covers with a sadness more heavy than you expected… but James returns with a glass of water and aspirin in hand and puts it by your bedside, perching on the side of your bed and running his hand over your hair.

Looking up at him wantonly, your eyes flutter closed when his knuckles brush your flushed cheeks, a soft sigh passing his lips as he stands up and then presses a tender kiss to your forehead while you giggle at the warmth of his body when he leans in. A hand snags the material of his shirt, but Murr just chuckles and shakes his head at you, loosening your grip with a simple flick of his wrist.

 **“You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning,”** James warns, leaning against the door-frame. Eyeing him lazily, you find it in you to shrug languidly at him.

**“Won’t see me caring.”**

He can hardly stop himself from laughing. **“Just as well you’ve got _me_ to do it for you.”**


	19. A Treat (Q/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

**“Lie back and let me take care of you…”**

You begin to protest, wanting to please him as much as he has you for the past half an hour. Gentle kisses to your neck, fingers slipping beneath underwear and teasing you senseless, until you’d become but a mound of putty in his hands. Brian smiles. Slowly. Calculated.

 **“Don’t even say anything, baby. Just let me,”** he purrs, hands sliding up your thighs and making you shiver as he hooks your knees over his shoulders and begins a trail of kisses up the inside of your thigh. You attempt to shy away - because you’ve never understood how somebody could willingly be so near to such an intimate place. But his hands stroke your skin, soothe you into submission as you uncertainly quiver in his grip.

And thus his treatment begins. His tongue glides along your wet opening, the essence of you tinging his tongue with a flavour he’s already become accustomed to. Cheeks flush with embarrassment as a soft moan leaves his lips as he pushes his mouth harder against you and proceeds to insert his tongue into you. Your hips jolt upwards, a sudden cry escaping your lips as pleasure overrides your system, hands automatically reaching to grip at his hair. Frantic laps of his tongue have you breathlessly panting his name and he switches tactics, fingers sliding inside of you whilst he assaults your clit with his mouth.

 **“Oh God… Brian…!”** you exclaim, writhing and bucking upwards as he continues to coat your intimacy with open-mouthed kisses and licks, fingers picking up rhythm that has you arching into him, pulling his face closer. **“God, I-I need more… please, Brian…”**

Q obliges. Why wouldn’t he? His motions are so deliciously practiced that you have to remind yourself to stay conscious lest the feeling be lost on you. Eyes rolls back and your vision turns hazy as he continues on, on, on, and as the minutes tick by you’re all but screaming his name. The smile against your entrance has you red-faced in mere seconds.

Eventually, **“B-Brian… I’m gonna…”**

He pulls away just enough to murmur in response: **“I know, baby, cum for me. Wanna taste…”**

His husky words push you over the edge, his name tumbling out of your mouth desperately as you pull hard at his hair - him grunting in response as he takes to cleaning you with his mouth - as stars take over your vision. Spent, you sink into the covers and, when he determines he’s through with sampling you, he releases your knees and travels up your body with kisses, eventually pressing a soft one to your lips.

**“You’re a real treat, you know that, [Y/N]?”**


	20. Attentive (Murr/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

 

**“Foreplay isn’t optional, it’s required.”**

The words burn you from the inside out as Murr presses his front against your back and feels his way down your bare arms. You’re naked, he’d undressed you a little while ago, but now that you’re ready for him, practically aching to be set alight courtesy of his electrifying touch, it’s torturous to feel him anywhere but inside of you.

 **“James…”** you whisper, pleading with him as his fingers dance along your heated flesh. In the low-light of the candles he’d romantically placed on the table (because even he could put in effort for a dinner, even if he’d had to buy it rather than prepare it himself) you see the shadow of his hands making their way over your hips before stroking back up your sides and settling on your shoulders. One moves to shift the hair away from your neck before soft lips assault sensitive skin, causing you to shudder to his grasp. **“Please, just…”**

 **“No can do, [Y/N]. You’re not ready yet,”** Murr purrs, kisses trailing from the flesh of your neck to your jaw. His low murmur is the gasoline that fuels the burning fire in the pit of your stomach and you press back against him in the hopes of weakening him enough to give in. He grunts, the sound deliciously low in your ear, your eyes slipping closed as you play the noise over and over again in your head.

A hand slips down your front and the Joker smirks slightly at the soft yelp you release as he slides a finger along your wet entrance, standing firm as you crumple into him completely. His teeth catch your earlobe and scrape along it softly, finger slowly pressing against the bundle of nerves that’s going to make you unravel.

**“Murr– James, please!”**

**“Shhh…”**

His lips are heading south, down your back, while his finger continues to fumble and stimulate you in all the right places. Pleasure begins to build, the excitement becomes almost too much to bear and it’s with a heavy blush that your knees falter and have you dropping into his arms. The man supports you, of course he does, and it comforts you that you have somebody who is strong enough to be able to do so.

Slyly, with some amount of premeditation, he slides two fingers into you, his thumb becoming the main instrument he uses to rub against your clit as you whine and moan in his grasp, trying to wriggle free so as to drop to your knees and please him as you so want to. But he doesn’t release you, large hand trailing up your body and to your breasts which has you solid against him in moments, resistance faltering completely. You give in - you moan his name as if it’s the only word in your vocabulary.

James slowly sinks to the floor with you, lays you out beneath him and lets you brush a hand against his rigid length. A soft gasp passes his lips; however, he doesn’t let himself get caught in the motions, takes your wrist and holds it, alongside the other, above your head.

**“You’re not ready yet.”**

**“I am, I am…!”**

His soft giggle has you flushing a deeper shade of red than you already were, eyes closing as you feel his tongue flick against a nipple before his mouth closes over it entirely, rolling the sensitive bud lightly between his teeth before lapping at it with a pace that has you arching your back into him. God, you want him, and having touched him for a mere moment you’re reminded of how good it feels to make him weaken in his resolve. Murr is a brilliant lover, if only because he’s so attentive and likes to do anything within his power to make you squirm. He does it so well that, though you resent him at the time for making you appear so weak, you can’t help but give in completely.

His free hand is moving over your other breast, warm fingers pinching the neglected nipple hard enough to make you cry out. It’s so good… and the fact that you can’t fault his approach makes it even better. Open-mouthed kisses trail down your stomach, making you raise your back from the floor, hoping to feel more of his face against your skin. However, he pulls up with you and refuses to give you the luxury, his eyes flitting up to meet yours in a moment of smug passion.

 **“Mm…”** James hums softly, fingers picking up their rhythm and listening as your breath hitches. The tiny mantra - _‘more, more, please more…’_ \- has him swallowing thickly for in mere moments he’s going to finally gratify the pair of you. The man pulls back, listening to you whimper with weakness at the loss of his touch. Releasing your wrists, Murr revels in the feel of your smaller hands coming to stroke down his chest, a smile forming on his face as he kisses you deeply before positioning himself.

**“Now you’re ready.”**


	21. The Best Passion (Murr/Reader)

Murr doesn’t understand why people don’t view him as a sexual person.

What could possibly click in their heads to make them believe a functional, fully-grown man (who isn’t asexual, mind you) doesn’t enjoy sex? Luckily, you have never seen this side of him; you think he’s an incredibly exciting person, from the way he talks to the way he treats you in bed, all gliding fingertips and hard thrusts.

Here he lays with you, covered in a sheen of sweat you had shared before you’d both tipped over the edge and come apart, and it’s so beautifully reminiscent of the warmth of your body against his that he doesn’t even consider moving to wash or freshen up. His arms are locked around your naked form, clutching you close as he pants in an attempt to get his breath back. You always give him the ride of a life time (quite literally if he was to make a crude pun) and it’s with fervent passion that he returns the favour, sexual prowess embedded in his very blood.

 **“James?”** you ask quietly, voice a soft whisper as you only just find the strength to breathe him in, The Joker shifts, nose trailing down your cheek before his mouth steals a kiss from your parted lips. The intimacy burns him from the inside out, makes his heart swell with adoration.

 **“Yeah, [Y/N]…?”** Murr whispers back, pulling away just enough to watch the flutter of your eyelids as his voice caresses your ears. Hyper-sensitive after an earth-shattering orgasm, your teeth catch your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep silent. The man notices, the ghost of a smirk appearing on his features, but he doesn’t vocalise the smugness that threatens to spill into his gaze, brows remaining non-judgmentally arched.

Hot red rushes through your veins, stains your cheeks crimson as hooded eyes flicker half-way open to look at the man you’re head over heels in both love and lust with. **“…you’re so good…”**

Murr isn’t certain what to say. **“…at sex?”**

 **“At sex,”** you clarify. **“Hell, you’re so good at everything when it comes to our relationship… but the sex has me weak. You do things to me, James Murray… things I would never dream of doing for another man. I love you.”**

It isn’t the first time either one of you had randomly burst into a random tangent and he is no stranger to passion… but he still smiles, verbally winded by your confession as he leans in and kisses you deeply, passionately, tongue searching for yours while his hands cup your face. You kiss him back, the exchange growing more heated as you continue, hands trailing down hot skin and sharp breaths of air escaping the pair of you whenever you pull away to breathe. You feel your weight shift, his alleviate as he lays atop you and continues to kiss you.

James pulls away to stop the burning in his lungs, exhaling shakily. **“I love you too, [Y/N]. So much. Ready to go again?”**

A giggle escapes the confines of your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

**“Mm… _definitely_.”**


	22. How They Behave When Jealous (All/Reader)

**When Q gets jealous,** he will pull you close and walk very much pressed against your side. Sometimes his hand will rest on the small of your back, gently pushing you forwards so as to guide you away from the other. At times when another man is getting too friendly for his liking, he’ll do something impulsive, such as pull you in and kiss you hard so that you melt into him, hoping the submission to him will put another man off.

 **When Sal gets jealous,** he will purse his lips and fold his arms over his chest. If the other man attempts to engage him in conversation too, he’ll be very off-handed and will let his eyebrows raise in disbelief a lot whenever the other isn’t paying attention. Aside from this, he’ll lean in and make petty little comments like ‘he isn’t all that, [Y/N]’ or ‘shouldn’t we be getting going, [Y/N]?’ in the desperate hope that you’ll agree.

 **When Joe gets jealous,** he will be overly touchy. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulders or physically turn your face away from the other so that you’re looking at him before he does something to make you laugh. If he feels threatened by another man, he’ll try to do things to make sure you don’t notice them. If all else fails, he’ll do something to distract you, such as catching your ear-lobe between his teeth and watching you blush. You’ll often be too stunned to regard the other man, instead demanding why he’d do such a thing to which he just grins at you.

 **When Murr gets jealous,** he will do his neck twitch without even realising it, hands clasping in a prayer gesture; he’ll often point at the other using this and you’ve come to recognise that it’s something he does whenever he feels insecure. If he becomes threatened, he’ll often try to be more charismatic than the person who has caught your eye. What he feels he can’t make up for in muscle or brawn, Murr attempts to make up for with charm and etiquette. You’ll often see his devious side come out too, and he may lie or over-exaggerate his own affairs to make him seem more impressive.


	23. Ice (Joe/Reader)

Ice coats the ground and you’re hand in hand with the man you’ve dedicated years of your life to. With marriage under your belt, you and Joe have had nothing but happiness come your way. Of course you’d suffered hardships, times that had made you crack and him fall distant with stress, but you’d always come back to one another in the end, surviving the difficulties and using one another as coping mechanisms in your day to day lives.

Now, however, you’re in a particularly soft patch. Money is of no issue and the two of you have been discussing a child… but for now you’re content with just the one by your side; Joe is child enough for both of you.

 **“Chilly out, huh?”** Joe pipes up from beside you as you walk across the road that leads you back home. It’s a fairly simple walk, but the rate at which winter approaches has the trees sheathed in frost and the windows of the homes and shops you pass steamed up with clashing heat and chill. Beautiful, really, and it makes it even better that the traffic has slowed due to the slippery conditions.

You nod your head, squeeze his glove-clad hand and smile at him adorably. **“Sure is. Glad I decided to bring my scarf. I did tell you so.”**

Joe chuckles, lightly tugs his collar and the glimpse of the skin of his throat has you swallowing thickly as you carry on, him sniffing in distaste at his own foolish choice. Leaving his scarf had been in a fit of childish ferocity; he had wanted so desperately to be right about it not being ‘too cold’ that he had purposefully not taken his own, assuring you that he wouldn’t need it while you tied your own lightly around your neck and shrugged your shoulders at him.

 **“Y’did, I get it– you were right,”** the Joker retorts with a joking roll of his eyes before he nudges you with a wide grin. In turn, you cup your ear with your free hand and lean in to him a little, eyebrow raised.

**“What was that? I could have sworn you said I was right.”**

**“Yeah yeah, calm your–”**

And he would have finished his sentence had your foot not slid out from under you, sending you lurching forwards with a squeal. Joe reacts quickly, tightens his hold on your hand and pulls you so that you fly backwards. Luckily his arms are there to support you.

You stare up at him, mouth slightly agape in shock and the deep blue of his eyes is locked on [E/C] intensely… before he gives way and laughs. Feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment, you scowl up at him and narrow your eyes before he picks you up and straightens you out. Ice… you _hate_ the goddam stuff.

 **“Not so smug now, huh?”** Joe titters, grin shaping his jaw in that way you love. To avoid becoming enarmoured with it, you avert your gaze and huff.

**“Hush up. Gatto’s are mean.”**

He snorts. **“You’re a Gatto too, y’know.”**

Lightly, Joe jabs you in the side, making you squirm away with a yelp of laughter. Faces turn to look at one another and you can hardly keep yourself from laughing with him before rejoining your hands together and continuing down the side-walk in one another’s tight grip.

Ice may be a pain but it had driven you into his arms - so how annoyed can you really be?


	24. Warmth (Q/Reader)

Cutting back on the heating bill sucks.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt properly warm and no matter how many layers you wear, sweater after sweater, long-sleeved shirt after long-sleeved shirt, you just can’t seem to heat up. You’d considered the possibility of being ill… but alas, you feel fine.

It’s more than a surprise when Q comes in from a long day of filming, plonks on the floor in front of the electric fire and flips it on. Your gut reaction is to scowl at him for you’ve braved lecture after lecture about ‘saving money’ where possible. Words catch on your tongue as he draws nearer, raises shaking hands to bask in the heat of the fire, his teeth grit together and his brow furrowed impatiently.

 **“What happened?”** you ask. You know the signs by now, it isn’t too much to assume that he’s wound up about something. The man huffs, nudges so close to the artificial fire that you fear it’s going to start scalding if he isn’t more careful.

 **“Punishment.”** Brian doesn’t elaborate, just sucks in a sharp breath and waits for relief to come in the form of flooding heat. By the time a few minutes have passed, he’s stopped shaking (to which you yourself feel an amount of joy) and you slither to the floor to sit next to him, nudging your head against his shoulder. He raises a hand, rests it on your head and pets you– before he seems to catch himself and begins to stroke through your hair instead; so used to his cats, you can often see the humour in him mixing the two things he loves most.

 **“Warmed up?”** you mumble, eyes closed as you happily bask in his affection. Q chuckles warmly, pulls you back to lay with him on the carpet as his feet raise to settle on the metal hood that is releasing the heat, toes curling around it and sighing in bliss when he feels the soles of his feet beginning to warm up. Resting your head on his shoulder, you curl into him and kiss his cheek affectionately, smiling as he leads you in closer whilst you put your feet next to his.

Q nods. **“Yeah. You always get me heated up.”**

You scoff, nudging him with your elbow. **“Shut up.”**

But the first time in a while, you’re warm too. And it’s more than about time.


	25. The Possessive Type (Joe/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

He’s had to watch you laugh at Q’s jokes for the past few hours now. Eyes fixed on the pair of you walking arm in arm (Brian insisting he was being ‘chivalrous’ through town as you walked), he feels his insides coiling at the thought of you preferring his company, longing for his presence as opposed to his own.

Joe runs a palm over his face, leans against the wall in the back room and sighs. He’s a grown man, yet he feels as possessive as a schoolboy with a first crush. He’s lightly startled out of his brooding when he feels your hand on his shoulder, you coming to lean against him with that playful smile he’s come to love shaping your jaw in such a way that makes him want to lean down and run his lips along it. The image fills his head, fingers twitching by his side as he contemplates grabbing you and doing it right then and there… but he has more control than that, has to have more control than that.

 **“Hey!”** You greet happily, eyes catching his, making him swallow thickly. He’s annoyed with you yet he has no right to be. You’re allowed to talk to Q, allowed to prefer him if you so wish - what could he really offer you anyway? - but it just frustrates him, burns him from the inside out. He finds that looking at you makes his brow form a crease and, before he can rectify it, you have caught on. **“Are… you okay…?”**

 **“Fine,”** Joe replies, a little too quickly for you to accept it. Besides, you know him better than that, can see how tense his jaw is as he turns his head to you and opens his mouth as if to speak, only to be interrupted by Q, Murr and Sal tumbling into the room, seemingly back from their three-way task (a new format they’d been trying out, whether one could out-do the other three; if they could, that Joker was safe from a punishment). Whatever Joe was going to say is silenced by the people in the room, lips meeting one another firmly and you know there’s no getting through to him now. With a light shrug, you move to join Q once more.

It’s a few more hours before Gatto gets you alone once more and when Q, Sal, Murr and the pair of you part ways he couldn’t have been happier. Hitching a ride with him, Joe drives in relative silence. It’s eerie, the fact that he’s not singing or dancing and the radio remains untouched, all of it makes you feel off. And his hard stare isn’t helping either, the blue of his eyes that you’ve come to adore so fixated on the road ahead of him, stormy and unsettled.

Suddenly, you stick your arm out and knock his hands on the steering wheel, throwing a sharp right before he slams his foot on the brake. You end up on the side of a dark road, the pair of you having taken a short-cut back to his street rather than travelling down the main highway.

 **“[Y/N]!”** he yells, eyes widened and his hands now so tight around the wheel his knuckles have turned white. **”What the hell?!”**

**“You’re gonna tell me what’s going on. Now.”**

**“I don’t know what you’re–”**

**“Oh come off it. You’ve been grumpy and tight-lipped all day, and you were definitely gonna tell me something earlier but you stopped when the other guys came in. So tell me. Don’t make me say it twice, Joseph Gatto.”**

Your lips have formed a perfect pout as arms fold neatly over your chest, the use of his full name making his brow dip.

“It’s nothin’,” he repeats, though his tone shakes and teeters on the edge of a whisper. “Just havin’ an off day.”

**“Tch, yeah. Ever since I started hanging out with Q earlier, you–”**

And suddenly it clicks. Everything comes together at such an alarming rate that you’re all but winded in the seat you sit in. A sly smirk forms on your face as the finger prodding his chest digs in a little, teasingly. **“…you’re _not_ jealous.”** You utter, disbelief forming on your features as Joe turns his head away and refuses to look at you. **“…you are! Oh my God!”**

The Joker simmers in silence, feels a foreign rush of heat flood his cheeks. He doesn’t blush, never does… and yet here he is, red-faced and all but sweating as you laugh at him. He supposes he should have expected such a reaction - it is ridiculous - but it riles him up further, has his leaning over the space between your seats and all but grabbing the side of your face, leading you into him and kissing you hard.

Months of pent-up stress, not to mention the strain of today, pours into the motion and you stop laughing for long enough to pull away from him, face pleasantly flushed and your eyes half-lidded. Joe only pulls away as far as your nose.

**“All right, so maybe I don’t like the idea of you preferring someone else’s company. Maybe I don’t wanna share you. Is that so wrong?”**

The intensity at which he’s staring at you makes you feel weak as you shake your head slowly, dazed, before leaning in and kissing him square on the mouth, hands coming to rest on his face. He’s kissing you back with such vigour that you find yourself clambering to your knees to get closer to him, over the gap in between your seats. He helps you over, settles you in his lap, one hand fitting perfectly into the curve of your back while the other brushes hair out of your face and settles on the fabric at your shoulder.

The thought of Joe being jealous… it turns you on so badly for you now know of the effect you have on him. As you part your lips at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, you release a soft moan and rock your hips into his, listening to the short gasp that passes his lips. The delicious sound drives you wild, has you unbuttoning his shirt and dragging the tips of your fingers down his front while he shudders and begins to trail kisses down your neck.

 **“Oh, Joe… you never needed to worry about anybody else. I only ever wanted you…”** You find yourself confessing before you can comprehend what is happening, his mouth nibbling on your collar bone, marking it with an amount of possession. When he’s successfully darkened the skin, the taste of you fresh on his tongue, he slips your shirt over your head, unclips your bra and smooths his hands over your breasts. You push against him, moaning encouragingly. **“Mm… Joe, please touch me.”**

 **“I’m gonna do more than that,”** he grunts, picking you up with strong arms and sliding you through the middle of the seats to lay you in the back of the car. After awkwardly squeezing himself through the gap - resulting in a bout of laughter before he quickly falls serious again, endearing as always - he mounts you with reassuring body weight, a hand sliding down your front to rub at the building wetness between your legs. His lips enclose around one nipple, the other being rolled between his thumb and forefinger of his free finger. When he lightly tugs it with his teeth, you cry out and pull on his hair, resulting in a deep groan from the other. **“Mm, you’re mine, [Y/N]. Every fuckin’ inch of you… never been good at sharin’…”**

You just nod, lost in the sensations as his fingers slide past your underwear and slip inside you, your body arching in response as you pull harder on his hair and murmur words of filthy encouragement as he moves his digits in and out. His tongue continues its work, circling your nipple before lapping at it in a way that has you moaning in a higher pitch than usual. So sensitive, and such attention makes you blush because you could never have imagined feeling so good.

 **“More, Joe…”** you gasp as he begins to pick up speed, kisses peppering from your lips to your neck before his mouth settles by your ear and his thick tone is running rings around your head as he murmurs dirty promises. **“Oh God… please…”**

You don’t have to ask him twice, though you do whine at the loss of the warmth of his hand as he removes it from your entrance to tug your legwear and underwear down your legs. He’s about to undo himself when you catch his wrist before rubbing your palm firmly against the bulge in his pants. Joe’s eyes slip closed, lips parting lightly to sigh with contentment as you tug his pants and underwear down at the same time, swallowing thickly when you catch sight of him. He’s as well-endowed as he is funny, you’ll say that much, and before you can stop yourself your hand is closing around him firmly, fingers moving along the length and back in the form of a jerking motion.

Joe moans his approval, hips beginning to move on their own accord. The smirk crossing your face says it all, but you can’t be much longer without him; you have never felt so empty and it’s with relief that he catches onto the pleading element in your features as you stare up at him, transfixed on the way his mouth moves. You assume he’s mouthing things he’s going to do to you, things he needs to say even if they’re swept away on the wave of emotion that has overtaken him.

He stops you with a firm hand around your wrist and you all but exhale with relief, pulling him by his neck to kiss him hard, his hips aligning with your opening before he pushes forwards and sheaths himself in your wet warmth. The emotion that surges through you, the utter delight, coaxes a choke out of your throat, lips still meshing with his passionately.

 **“God, Joe, just move– it’s fine, I need it,”** you beg when he pulls away to ask, the ghost of the question tasting stale as you feel yourself burning up for him; your entire being consumed in fire, you moan loudly, liberally, when he pulls back and then fills you to the hilt all over again. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t admit it, but he revels in the sounds you make, hips beginning to fall into a rhythm that is harder and faster than he ever imagined he’d be with you. He has to admit, he’s more the romantic type, tends to romanticise sex, but this… this is amazing, perhaps even better, and though his heart is thumping with adoration it’s also being flooded with adrenaline and perverse satisfaction. **“Joe–”**

There isn’t any more time to say anything more for he’s pounding into you as if he’ll never get the chance again. Mouth latches onto the sweet spot beneath your ear before his teeth catch your earlobe and bite hard enough to make you squeal beneath him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, so hard you swear you’ll draw blood if you keep going, but the words he’s uttering drive you crazy, so crazy you couldn’t care less.

 **“Tell me nobody could fuck ya like this,”** Gatto orders breathily and by now he’s pushing into you so hard the car is rocking from side to side and you’re crying out louder than you ever have done before, needing more of him. His girth pleases you immensely, has you all but wailing as his thumb comes to flick against your clit. He drives you wild, so wild you can’t speak.

 **“God, yes, you’re the only one who could do it like this!”** you concede, feeling pleasure dig itself into your very core as you threaten to explode beneath him. **“I’m gonna cum…”**

**“I’ll let ya so long as you scream my name. Nice and loud, [Y/N], tell me how good I’ve made you feel.”**

And you don’t have it in you to do anything but, the familiar name rushing past your lips before you can even think to stop it, scream overriding the sound of skin slapping against skin. The cry apparently pushes Gatto over the edge for a few more thrusts and he’s spent, finishing hard inside of you while you lay there and shudder and squeeze him so as to earn every last drop from him. His brow furrows, as if he’s concentrating, and the sight if so goddamn attractive that you can’t resist leaning up and pressing an array of open-mouthed kisses down the length of his jaw.

He collapses back against the car door then, body falling limp as he pants hard - and you get up to meet him, sitting in between his legs and pressing idle kisses to his neck and his cheek and whatever else you can reach, hand brushing over his sweat-soaked forehead.

 **“Never took you for the possessive type, Joe…”** you mumble teasingly, a hand coming to rest over his thumping heartbeat as he lowers his head towards yours and rest his forehead against your own. He smiles. What else can he do when you’re looking so adorable?

**“…I never was. Until you came along.”**


	27. Record Time! (Q/Reader)

**[SMUT WARNING!]**

This is always the fun part.

Being with Q has its ups and downs, mostly ranging from depressing separation to wild nights of passion to make up for lost time. However, this time you’ve joined them on tour (with the okay of all the guys, considering they knew how you felt about Q and you wouldn’t be able to see him for months otherwise) and it’s been difficult remaining reserved around him in a setting - namely, the beds - in which you can actually interact with him.

As of now, they’re about to go on stage, ten minutes to go at most, and it’s then that you feel an imposing weight against your back that drives you forwards into the wall. Lips attach themselves to your neck and you’re lost in the man you know is behind you, his hand sliding between your legs and applying pressure in the place you always want him the most.

 **“Q–”** You breathe, lost in translation as he catches your earlobe between his teeth and murmurs heated syllables against the shell of your ear that have your knees shaking, one hand reaching behind you to stroke at the forming hardness in his pants. A low groan fills your senses and it causes a moan to tumble past your lips before you can even think to stop it. **“You’re on stage in seven…”**

 **“Better be quick then,”** he mouths, turning you quickly to face him and kissing you hard on the lips, fingers diving past the waistband of your panties and stroking at your already-wet folds. God, it feels good and you let loose a sharp squeak of surprise as he inserts a finger inside of you, followed closely by another. **“Mm, you always feel so good, [Y/N]. Quiet down though - don’t wanna get caught.”**

The distinct sound of his fly unzipping has your brows arching with desperation as you back yourself harder against the wall and feel his knuckles brush your thigh as he pulls your legwear down your thighs and holds you in his arm, your legs around his waist; Q holds himself in his free fist, fingers jerking a couple of times before he guides himself inside of you with a muffled growl of approval.

Q wastes no time in building up a rhythm that has you clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. He catches your eye and that does it for you as you pull him in for a kiss,all teeth and tongue as he moves in and out of you in fluid motions that make your breaths shudder with weakness. His thumb brushes against your clit and you pull away from his lips to tip your head back against the wall, the scratch of his beard turning you on even more as he nibbles and nips your exposed throat.

 **“Q, you and the guys are on in two!”** The call of the host has him grinning at you, a hand moving over your mouth as you moan at the thrill the possibility of being caught gives you.

 **“Got it!”** Brian calls back, thrusting harder into you and you bite down on the skin of his hand as you feel yourself cumming, muffled moan silenced. You feel the man in front of you bury his face in your shoulder, teeth closing on skin as he groans and releases himself inside of you. **“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …”**

Once you both calm down, Q helps you readjust your clothes before doing the same with his own, leaning in and kissing you sweetly. The contrast makes you fall in love that little bit more.

 **“H–Have a good time out there…”** You grin sheepishly, laughing when he gives you a cheesy grin with a thumbs up.

**“Will do!”**


	28. Injuries (Murr/Reader)

The accident has left his feeling horrible.

After exposing you to a prank in which had taken a turn for the disastrous - strictly speaking, it involved a water pistol in which had been tossed at a wrong angle and walloped you on the side of the head hard enough to render your unconscious - Murr had felt nothing but guilt. Perhaps he should have been more invested in being successful rather than bragging at his ‘foolproof plan’; anything with the description of ‘foolproof’ had evidently not been handled by him.

You turn your head at the sound of the door to your room bursting open and are greeted by a out-of-breath Murray and a bright array of colours in his arms. Flowers. How sweet a gesture.

 **“I came as soon as they let me through!”** he explains, hurriedly pulling up a chair from the corner of the room and setting it in front of your bed. A laugh passes your lips as you raise a hand and place it on his forearm.

**“Don’t worry - it’s nothing major. Just a lump.”**

You wish that James would look more convinced but the most he can muster is a forced smile, tiny and strained at the edges. It’s with a sinking feeling of dread that you regard him, trying to maintain a serious expression that doesn’t make your vision swim and your head ache. In and out of focus, his face comes and goes in blurriness you can’t control, like a muddied camera lens; functional, but still unclear. Smiling in what you hope is a comforting way, you speak up again.

**“Don’t worry about it, James. It’s not like you did it on purpose.”**

**“I know. I just feel like a jerk.”**

He looks up at you, deep gaze fixing on your face. It is a gentle hand that he sweeps over your forehead with, apologising through clenched teeth as you wince at the contact. His fingers stray from the bump, don’t attempt to touch it again and instead curl in your hair softly, strands of smooth [H/C] sliding through his digits with ease.

James huffs apologetically, hands you the flowers which you accept with a grateful fist to the stalks as you place them on the bedside table. The lack of a vase doesn’t stop you appreciating them; in fact, with the flowers pointing at you from their sprawled position on the table, the scents hit you dead on, make you inhale appreciatively. Murr notices and feels a more genuine smile curve his lips. You’re so content and it’s such a beautiful sight.

 **“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”** the Joker asks, brows raising sheepishly as he snags a glance at the large bump on your head and purses his lips in distaste. Caution laces his tone at a rate that has you smiling for he’s so bashful about his mistakes that it makes warmth overtake you. You nod once, firmly.

**“I’m gonna be fine. Promise.”**

Murr grins, leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, taking care to avoid the lump.

**“If you say so, [Y/N].”**


	29. Adventurous (Sal/Reader)

You’re not sure what compelled you to say yes when Sal had proposed the idea of taking you into his bedroom, just that the soft kiss that left a lot to be desired in the wake of his usual readiness had lured you in like a fish falling for bait.

 **“Wait there... and close your eyes.”** Sal mouths against your ear, a fleeting kiss being placed on your cheek before he strokes down your arms and leaves you standing there. Doing as you’re told, [E/C] eyes slip shut and you see the main light of the room disappear from overhead, instead replaced with a soft brightness that reminds you of candlelight. A lamp, perhaps.

Unable to keep yourself from jumping when you feel Sal at the back of you (because since when had he become so quiet?), his soft giggle makes you smile. There is a moment in which you reflect on how far you’ve come as a couple before you feel cool material slip over your eyes; a hand raises to snag at it but Vulcano catches your wrist and shushes you lowly in your ear. With but one question on the tip of your tongue, you decide to do as you’re told.

 **“I was thinking... maybe we could try something different. Sex with you is... _awesome_ ,”** Sal pauses to chuckle softly, pressing his lips to the tender spot beneath your ear. You smile. **“...but I was thinking of something more... adventurous.”**

 **“Yeah...?”** Your voice comes out playful, and as he slinks around your body and wraps his arms around your frame, you laugh softly before you feel his lips on yours, kissing you so sweetly that you melt into him with a satisfied sigh. A hand slides down your back before slipping over the gentle curve of your rear, his palm squeezing as he begins to walk you slowly backwards. When the back of your legs hit the bed, you sit and reach your hands out to pull him to you. He doesn’t resist, just kneels in front of you and kisses you soundly before wrapping an arm around your back and picking you up enough to have your head on the pillow by the time he puts you down again.

The sound of his belt coming loose has you waiting with baited breath and you reach forwards blindly to grasp at his zipper and tug it down, fingers brushing his stiffening length as you do. He takes your wrists in his hands and hovers above you, straddling your thighs with his own as he leans forwards and loops his belt around the bars in the headboard, effectively tying our wrists to it.

Swallowing hard, you’re about to voice a doubt you have when his hands pull your shirt and bra up to bunch at your neck and his mouth closes around a nipple. A whimper is forced out of your throat and, upon instinct, you try to move your hands to grasp at his hair, only to remember they are tied up. The fact that you cannot see what he is doing makes you even more sensitive than you usually are.

Sal’s eyes flicker upwards as you writhe with frustration, a triumphant smirk shaping his jaw as he continues to pleasure you. Eventually, apparently growing complacent with the pace he is going at, the Joker begins to trail kisses down your stomach, the feeling of his breath fanning against your skin enough to make you arch from beneath him. When he reaches the waistband of your underwear, you hold your breath - and release it as a jittery moan as his tongue presses flatly against your clit through the material. It makes you ache for him, makes you squirm desperately.

**“God, Sal, please...”**

You hear nothing in response but you feel the pads of his fingers rubbing against your panty-clad opening, the thought of him inside you enough to have you drenched as he finally slips the fabric aside and allows his fingers to glide over your slick folds. Breath shutters as you anticipate the feeling of his fingers filling you... and when it comes, you can hardly express what it does to you, a high-pitched whine ripped from your throat.

Sal’s mouth settles on your hip as his fingers begin to move, in and out, in and out, stay-- and then beginning again, the pace enough to drive you completely insane. You’re breathing hard, knees buckling despite the fact that you’re laying down. It’s all too much and yet it can never be enough.

You do nothing to stop him as he pulls your underwear down your legs and releases your skin from his lips, a pleasantly red mark left on your hip as the male adjusts himself. As the unpleasant sensation of emptiness comes over you as Sal removes his fingers, you open your mouth to beg him to come back - but you get no chance, any words on your tongue dying completely as he pushes himself into you with a readiness that surprises even your desperate core.

 **“Mm... [Y/N], this is so good...”** Sal murmurs, pulling his hips back and then filling you to the hilt all over again, rhythm bound in his thrusts as it is in his bones: your moans are the music, his body performing at a rate that is out of his control and yet so deliciously appropriate that he has to stop himself from drooling at how good it feels. His lips settle by your ear, teeth catching the skin as he murmurs, **“I love dominating you like this, baby... do you like it?”**

Nodding uselessly, you’re left to struggle against your restraint in a desperate attempt to touch him. It is to no avail, and you can feel his grin stretch slowly across his face as he continues to push in and out of you at a pace that has you arching from the bed in a lustful haze.

 **“[Y/N], use your words,”** the Joker whispers, listening to the groan that escapes your mouth as he pushes into you and then holds still. Your protest is almost violent, hands scrabbling and haphazard sounds filling the room around you. Sal’s tough fingers coil around both of your wrists. **“God damn it, [Y/N], tell me that you like it. I know you do - feel how wet you are for me.”**

 **“Sal, please! Don’t stop, I--I need more, I love it--!”** You’re all but wailing, cheeks bright red with both arousal and embarrassment. The satisfaction that emanates from the man above you is all but tangible as he begins to move again, harder and faster than before, as if his soul purpose is to finish you off.

It doesn’t take long, you cumming violently as Sal’s long strokes descend into quicker jerky motions, his thumb coming to stimulate the bundle of nerves you’d longed so desperately to be touched in a way that has you seeing stars behind your eyes, hearing explosions of his voice in your ears. Your entire world collapses in on itself for a few seamless seconds-- and as he releases inside of you, harder than he would give himself credit for, it’s then that the bliss comes.

The pair of you lay there, a panting mess, and it’s with only a tiny amount of grief that you realise you can’t see his post-orgasmic expression as his face buries in your neck and leaves a soft array of kisses and bites. Sweat coats your skin, making it gleam in the low-light of the bedroom as you struggle to earn enough breath to speak.

**“...a-are you gonna let my hands free now? I could make it worth your while...”**

Sal pauses, and for a tense moment nothing is heard - and then he chuckles, a sound so sexily smooth that it has colour rushing to your cheeks all over again, rekindled fire in your belly beginning to burn away at your senses once more.

A few more kisses are pressed idly to your flesh, tongue tracing the outer shell of your ear before Sal takes a purposeful breath and murmurs huskily in response:

**“...what makes you think I’m _done with you_?”**


End file.
